Hangnail
by Lily Sregdor
Summary: AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid. (Possible slow burn with an M rating.)
1. Chapter 1

Hangnail

by Lily Sregdor

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter one

Molly Hooper

How did it come to this? One minute Molly Hooper's life was simple albeit stressed in certain places. But it was nothing extraordinary and she didn't think there was anything she was missing from her life. Until her father got sick. Molly's parents had divorced not long after they were married; her mother had moved to America and made a new life and a new family leaving her mistake from her past (Molly and her former husband) behind her. In Molly's early teen years she became angry at her mother for abandoning her but it was through Molly's father, Henry, that she found that she didn't need her mother and that having her father in her life was the only family she needed. When Henry got sick everything changed. Molly dropped out of university to take care of him. She didn't see it as a burden, she saw it as her duty to take care of him. They hired a nurse, Mrs. Hudson, a kind older woman who became like a mother figure to Molly. When the doctors told Molly that Henry only had a couple of months left she felt her whole world crumbling. At the funeral Mrs. Hudson and a few relatives came to pay their respects but all in all it was a quiet affair.

Molly knew that's the way her father would have wanted it. He didn't like to be fussed over, even while he was ill. He was such a gentle man, right to the end. He never lashed out in anger towards her or anyone else and never blamed his sickness on anyone. Molly was angry and this time she didn't have her father to help her through it. Mrs. Hudson came by often to see how she was holding up. She tried getting Molly to go back to school but Molly didn't feel like the time was right.

"You're such a bright young woman," Mrs. Hudson would say as she made tea for them both in the small but modest kitchen in Molly's home. Molly's father had left everything to her, a decent amount of money and her childhood home. "It would be a pity to let all that go to waste is all I'm saying." Mrs. Hudson said as she sat down at the kitchen table. Molly nodded her head, sipping her tea.

"I appreciate your advice," Molly began. "But right now I just need to find someone who will hire me." Molly glanced at Mrs. Hudson who looked like she wanted to say something very badly but was struggling with whether or not to say it. Molly didn't want to press Mrs. Hudson for anything she didn't want to comfortably divulge. But Molly didn't have to press or wait for long. "You know," Mrs. Hudson began slowly, playing with the thin fabric of the table cloth. "I have an employer… well it's complicated. I helped take care of him during an incident and he hasn't wanted to let me out of his sight- he protests when I take other jobs- but anyway, I know he and his wife are looking for a new maid and if you would like I could get you an interview and put in a good word." Molly sat up straight. She needed a job. Molly wasn't naive enough to believe she could live off her father's inheritance forever.

"Oh yes, please, that would be wonderful!" Molly tried to not sound so eager but it came out anyway. Mr. Hudson smiled and touched Molly's hand in a motherly sort of way. She was smiling but the older woman still looked like she was holding something in. "Is there a problem, Mrs. Hudson?" Molly asked.

Mrs. Hudson sighed and shook her head. "Not really a problem… he's, Mr. Holmes that's his name, is… well," Mrs. Hudson paused and sipped her tea. "Eccentric is the best way I would describe him." Molly nodded her head. Eccentric, Molly thought. She shrugged. "I'm sure he's very nice." Molly said and Mrs. Hudson suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter. Molly had never heard her laugh so hard in the whole time she had known the older woman. Molly asked what she said was so funny but Mrs. Hudson was still laughing. "Oh… oh you sweet girl," Mrs. Hudson said standing and she patted Molly's shoulder lovingly. She collected her things and said goodbye to Molly and told her she would phone her the details of when her interview with Mr. Holmes would take place.

That night Molly went to bed with hope she would get the job but she still cried herself to sleep, missing her father terribly. He suffered from insomnia and at night she would hear him pacing back and forth in his bedroom or walking up and down the stairs or tinkering in his study on some project. Now she could only hear a faint echo of those footsteps. They echoed in her mind. His spirit wasn't haunting her… her memory was.

And that was how Molly Hooper had been spending her nights since her father passed away. Crying herself to sleep; telling herself everything would be better in the morning. Telling herself in the morning that today was another day. She had to try to be optimistic. She had to try. Molly just wished she had something or someone to help her. Mrs. Hudson didn't really help, she was still an outsider looking in at Molly. All Molly wanted was her father back, she knew she had to heal though. But when, she found herself thinking over and over again, would the healing begin?


	2. Chapter Two- Mr Holmes

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Two

Mr. Holmes

Paper against fingertips was not one of Molly's favorite sounds. In fact, it made her skin crawl. She sat in a large leather chair that was too big for her in a dusty office in a large house on a quiet street. Molly scratched at her thumb nervously. She had had a few job interviews in the past but the moment she slapped eyes on the one and only Mr. Holmes she immediately felt like she was two sizes smaller. The way his piercing blue eyes had looked her up and down reminded her of one of her teachers at school who enjoyed slamming his ruler down on a random desk striking fear into the hearts of his students. But there was no ruler on Mr. Holmes' desk. There was however a riding crop in the chair Molly currently sat in that had rudely poked her bottom when she sat down. She had removed it, placing it in Mr. Holmes' hands while he nonchalantly muttered "she's always leaving her things in here." Molly supposed that "she" must have been Mrs. Holmes, whom Molly had yet to meet. A young butler had answered the door when she arrived and had showed her to Mr. Holmes' office.

As Molly sat in the large leather chair she glanced around the room trying to ignore the terrible sound of skin scraping against paper as a page was turned over in the smooth file folder Molly had handed to Mr. Holmes. The bookshelves were stacked full of books, some were squeezed in so tight against others that Molly wondered if one were to be pulled out the rest would come spilling out on top your head. The office was, in short, an utter disaster. Molly could understand why the Holmes' needed a maid. More books were stacked atop the large wooden desk. Molly briefly wondered what kind of wood it was made out of her. One of her father Henry's many hobbies included-

"You've never been a maid before?" Mr. Holmes' deep voice broke through Molly's wandering thoughts, it startled her. She nodded her head. "You have a voice, use it." Mr. Holmes snapped at her, Molly couldn't meet his gaze so she stared at the bookshelf behind him. "I'd prefer it if you looked me in the eye," he said but Molly, embarrassed, instead looked down at her feet. "The inability to make eye contact with another person means you have high anxiety, low self esteem or you're just busy thinking and are not in the present." he said rather quickly. Molly finally looked at him and as he glanced back down at the file, he looked bored. Molly realized why Mrs. Hudson had laughed when Molly said that she was sure Mr. Holmes would be a "nice" man. She now knew that who she was dealing with was completely the opposite. "You never did vocalize your answer to my question, Miss. Hooper." Mr. Holmes said, he flipped the folder closed and tossed it in the trash. Molly's eyes widened and her hand briefly came out as if to stop him but she quickly pulled it back and folded her hands together in her lap. "Well you have- _had_- my folder, my information." she said to him nervously.

Mr. Holmes leaned forward in his chair and put to his hands together in front of him, almost like one would during prayer, and leaned his chin against the tips of his long fingers. Molly quickly appraised his features in the dim light of the office. He looked young but not terribly young but not old either. Molly guessed he might be somewhere in his mid thirties. Old enough to have a wife and a large home and what must be a good income. Molly felt like he was… appraising her. Like she was something he wasn't sure he wanted to buy or not. Molly didn't particular care for his gaze.

"Yes, yes your file has all the information I need to know about your work history, Miss. Hooper. But if I am going to offer you a job and have you work under my roof then I prefer to hear about a person from said person's own mouth, not paper and ink." he punctuated the last word in a cold and menacing way. It was all in the way he chose his words and chose to say them that made Molly uncomfortable. When Molly didn't speak straight away he stood up suddenly coming to sit on the edge of his desk directly in front of her. "Still don't want to talk? My, my, you aren't good at this whole interview thing are you?" he said in a mocking sort of way. Molly glanced back down at her feet. "You're twenty two- no twenty three. You've recently lost someone who took care of you, you're warn… tired," he paused when she finally looked back up at him. She fidgeted with her hands, felt her palms beginning to sweat. What had Mrs. Hudson told him? Molly wondered.

"You're quiet but intelligent, you read more words a day than you probably speak. You had coffee this morning, not tea, with cream- heavy cream- no breakfast though you were too nervous to eat but you're regretting the decision even right now. You live alone, probably talk to yourself, you're not very social, don't make a lot of fuss over the little thing and despite the coffee stain on your right cuff you're usually a clean person. You read the paper this morning and forgot to wash your hands. Those are your best shoes, old but not heavily worn. Am I missing anything Miss. Hooper?" Mr. Holmes finished and waited for her response. She was… astonished. "How did… how could you possibly have worked all that out?" Molly asked and Mr. Holmes laughed, it was deep and resonating. Molly didn't like to be laughed at. Was he poking fun at her? Molly stood up. "Listen Mr. Holmes I didn't come here to be mocked or laughed at. If you don't wish to hire me I'll just leave." Molly said and began to walk to the door.

"Wait, Miss. Hooper," Mr. Holmes said walking slowly after her. Molly's hand was on the knob and was ready to throw the heavy door open and storm out of the house. "I never said I didn't want to hire you. In fact you come highly recommended for someone who has never been a maid before and I trust Mrs. Hudson's opinion to a certain degree and my wife is pressing me to find a maid immediately. When can you start?" he asked. Molly hesitated. Maybe he was just having a bad. Mr. Holmes couldn't possibly get any worse, could he? Molly decided that having an uptight rude boss was better than not having any boss at all and besides she really needed the job. And besides it was a big house she would probably never see him. He seemed the type of man who liked his privacy anyway. "I can start whenever you're willing to have me." Molly said and immediately regretted her choice of words. "No-I- that's not… that came out wrong." Molly said glancing around the room nervously once more, she tried focusing on anything that wasn't Mr. Holmes. "Very well. You can start on Monday at eight if your schedule permits." Mr. Holmes said as he walked back to his desk and sat down. "It does." she replied turning the knob and opening the door. "Goodbye Mr. Holmes." Molly said, he was writing something down and replied with a curt "hmm".

As Molly exited the office she took one last look at him. He was still quite tall even sitting down, he was very put together in his black suit and dark purple shirt but no tie like most men she met who dressed well. His hair cut short and swept over to one side. He looks rather posh, Molly thought. Molly closed the door. As she made her way towards the front door she heard someone coming down the staircase. Mr. Holmes' office was on the first floor. She heard the sound of heels tapping against the wooden staircase. "Does my husband know I'll be gone long?" she heard a woman's voice say. Molly didn't know why but she decided to hide behind yet another bookshelf. She watched as a beautiful woman came to the bottom of the stairs. She had beautiful long black hair that she let flow down her back in loose curls, her lips were red from lipstick and she wore a rather form fitting low cut white dress. "Yes ma'am." another woman with red hair replied as she helped Mrs. Holmes (Molly could only assume, and rather correctly) put on her bright red coat. Mrs. Holmes exited the front door with the red headed woman following behind her.

Molly returned home in the afternoon. The first thing she did was wash her hands of the newspaper ink that Mr. Holmes had pointed out. He never did tell her how he knew all those things about her. He unnerved her. She wasn't so sure accepting the job was such a good idea. But Molly chalked it all up to her just being intimidated by her new employer.

"Well I'll show him he can't intimidate me so easily." Molly said to herself as she prepared her lunch. She paused. She did talk to herself and now that he had pointed it out she took notice of it. She sighed and plopped down in her favorite chair in the living room to read another book. Monday seemed so long away.

(AN: This will most likely be a "slow burn" story with short chapters because as of write now (haha get it? Puns!) that's how I am seeing this story head. Reviews are always welcome and always appreciated. Thank you for reading this far already.)


	3. The Doctor, The Other Holmes and a

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Three

The Doctor, The other Holmes and a Cigarette

Monday was more or less interesting for Molly Hooper. She arrived at 8:00 in the morning on the dot. She knocked on the door to be greeted by the butler whose named was Cameron. He was polite but quiet. Kind of like me, Molly thought to herself. When Cameron showed Molly to Mr. Holmes' office door he left her there and she knocked softly.

"Hello? Mr. Holmes?" she asked through the door but she got no reply. She knocked again, a little louder this time. She didn't see anyone else in the hall.

"Mr. Holmes? It's Molly Hooper. Your new maid," she said as she opened the door a crack. The office was basically the same as how she had last seen it. The chair she had sat in during her interview was stacked with more books. She wondered, how could one man have so many books?

Molly imagined all of the books he owned could fill up her entire house. Molly went to the drapes and pulled them open coughing a little when the dust was lifted. She heard a loud groan from the corner, it startled her. She put a hand over her heart when she saw the one and only Mr. Holmes rolling over onto his back on a sofa.

"Mr. Holmes, you gave me a fright." she said, walking slowly towards him but keeping her distance. Mr. Holmes rubbed his face and ran a tired hand through his mussed up hair. She thought he looked more handsome this way. Molly quickly shook that thought away. My employer is _not_ handsome! Molly thought to herself.

Mr. Holmes sat up, his bare feet making a thudding noise on the hard wood floor. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned a bit but not scandalously, he wore a blue dressing gown.

"Time… what's the time?" he asked standing up and walking passed her towards the open drapes pulling them closed. "It's five past eight." she replied shakily. She was rubbing her hands together, it was quite cold in the office. As if reading her mind he walked to the fire place and paused. "Who are you again?" he asked suddenly. Molly felt insulted. Her own employer couldn't even remember who she was? He had practically dissected her entire being on their first meeting.

"Wait, wait, don't tell me… Maggie?" he asked. Molly shook her head. He rolled his eyes and paused.

Then suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Molly! Molly Hooper. So you decided to come back." he said leaning down and beginning to light a fire. Molly wondered why he didn't just use the furnace. "Wait, come and do this for me. It is after all part of your job." he said and Molly quickly took the matches from him, their fingers brushing against one another. Molly tried to ignore the little jolt that went up her entire arm. She squatted down and began making a fire.

"Wait, it's five past eight… in the morning?" he questioned. Molly nodded her head. Mr. Holmes groaned once more and flopped down in his desk chair. "I meant eight in the evening to come back." he said, he sounded annoyed. Molly was irritated. Was he expecting me to read his mind? She thought as she angrily lit a match and tossed it in the fire place. She watched him from the fire place as he cracked his knuckles and neck. The noise sent a chill up her spine. "In the evening, Sir?" she asked him. He replied with "hmm". He didn't say anything for a little while. Finally he spoke up again.

"It would seem Mrs. Hudson was not completely clear on your job description. While you will be doing maid things, whatever those are, you'll also being assisting me with some… experiments and errands." he said quickly writing something down on a scrap piece of paper. Molly assumed she was only being hired as a maid and now this man who she barely knew expected her to be some sort of errand girl? Remember, you're not going to let him intimidate you! Molly thought strongly. She was about to speak up when he stood from his seat and walked over to and handed her what appeared to be a list. "I need these materials from Barts hospital as soon as possible. Mention my name to Dr. John Watson, you'll have no trouble." he said. She reached out a delicate hand. He suddenly snatched her wrist in his hand. It wasn't a harsh grasp but it shocked a gasp out of Molly.

"You haven't eaten yet today, your hands are shaking from the cold and possibly… low blood sugar. Be sure to eat something when you return." he said. Molly pulled her wrist from him, he let it go without a fuss. She held his gaze as long as she could bare before turning away. "Yes, Sir." she said walking from the office, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the office door, her heart pounding in her chest. The brush of their fingertips was one thing but when he touched her wrist she felt the electric jolt spread throughout her entire body. She smoothed her hands down the front of her ordinary black work dress and composed herself.

During Molly's car ride to Barts she pondered over her new employer. Mrs. Hudson had been right about him being eccentric. He was a strange man. One minute he was sleeping on a couch in his clothes, from the night before Molly assumed, then the next he was up and about giving orders as if he'd never been asleep. One moment he was quiet and deep in thought then the next he was shouting ordes.

When Molly arrived she collected the materials listed. From Molly's short time at university she knew what to look for in regards to his list. They were materials used in chemistry. A couple of books, a few chemicals, glass bottles… Molly wondered what Mr. Holmes actually did for a living that he would require such materials. The doctor named John Watson helped her with her list.

"So, you're working for Sherlock Holmes, eh?" he said as he helped her fill a box. Molly nodded her head. "You know him well?" she asked. Dr. Watson laughed as they walked through a row of shelves. "Know him? I used to live with him before we both settled down. Well, I settled down anyway." the man said. Molly got the impression that if she wanted to know anything at all about her new employer that asking other people would probably be her best shot. Mr. Holmes didn't seem the type to openly talk about his life to many people. No, he struck her as the quiet loner type. She would have guessed he was a bachelor had she not known prior that he was married. In fact, she hadn't even known his first name until Dr. Watson had said it. A strange name. She'd never heard it anywhere else before.

Dr. Watson paused in front of one shelf. "Don't expect him to say many nice things," he said placing a few glass bottles in the box. "And don't expect his wife to be any better. Match made in… well I wouldn't call it heaven, but made somewhere." he said. Molly learned that Mr. and Mrs. Holmes hadn't been married that long, two years. Dr. Watson had been married just as long. They had been flatmates for a few years and Dr. Watson helped Mr. Holmes with, what Molly learned, was some sort of detective work.

"The only consulting detective in the world!" Dr. Watson said waving his hands around dramatically and laughing, Molly giggled. "He's definitely an acquired taste. Just put him in his place though and you'll do just fine." Dr. Watson said kindly. Molly thanked him for his help and left the hospital.

On the drive back Molly went over the information Dr. Watson had told her.

Sherlock Holmes was a consulting detective, whatever that meant. He was somewhat happily married to a woman named Irene Adler. Dr. Watson had told her how Mr. Holmes parents were shocked when Irene Adler refused to take Mr. Holmes' name. Sherlock Holmes was thirty years old, he played the violin when he needed to think, he was usually rude and downright unpleasant to be around most days but Dr. Watson had made it a point to tell Molly that Mr. Holmes was also the bravest and wisest man he had ever known.

On Molly's return to the Holmes residence she noticed another car parked out front with a lovely woman with long brown hair sitting in the backseat. Cameron opened the door and Molly started towards the office when Cameron stopped her.

"I would wait a bit Miss. Hooper, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Holmes are having it out again." he explained before disappearing around a corner. Molly frowned. Two Mr. Holmes? She thought. She hoped the other was nicer than the one she worked for. Molly waited in the hall but the longer she waited the heavier the box felt. She began walking towards the office, the door was ajar a bit and she could hear voices from inside. One clearly her Mr. Holmes- No! She thought quickly. He's not _my _Mr. Holmes, he's my employer. She reminded herself.

"Sherlock, how many times do I have to tell you to keep an eye on that wife of yours?" she heard an unfamiliar voice say, the other Mr. Holmes sounded rather angry. Father perhaps? She wondered. "What do you want me to do Mycroft? Put a leash on her?" she heard her employer Mr. Holmes said, he sounded amused by the other Mr. Holmes. One of the men let out an angry sigh. She could only assume it came from the other Mr. Holmes. "It would be a good start. And who is that hiding behind the door?" Molly's gasped and was about to step back when quick footsteps sounded and the door was pushed open. Molly gave a small squeak and stepped back further. The other Mr. Holmes was clearly not a father. Molly assumed brother. He was tall like Mr. Sherlock Holmes and had the same dark hair, pale complexion and aristocratic features. The other Mr. Holmes held a umbrella in one hand that he leaned on like a cane.

"Oh never mind her. She's the new maid." Mr. Sherlock Holmes said, Molly could see him through the doorway, he was redressed and looked refreshed. He buttoned the middle button of suit and made his way towards her. He took the box from her and gestured for her to enter the office. "And errand girl, apparently." the man named Mycroft said, they both spoke as if she wasn't even there! Molly was liking these two men and this job less and less. "Yes, well, will that be all Mycroft?" Mr. Holmes asked. Mycroft smiled at Mr. Holmes like he was sucking on a lemon. "Watch out for your wife, brother dear." he said before walking out of the office.

Mr. Holmes made sure to slam the door hard causing Molly to jump a bit. Mr. Holmes ignored the box of materials on his desk and instead went to the window. He opened the drapes, wincing as the bright sun hit his face. He took out a pack of cigarettes and opened the window. "Have a light?" he asked. Molly nodded her head. It was habit carrying around a small book of matches, Molly's father used to smoke pipes and she always made sure to have a light ready for him. Molly came to stand in front of the tall man and lit the match with shaky hands. He leaned down and briefly made eye contact with her as she lit his cigarette; Molly watched as the thick smoke slowly moved like a ghost across his face. He looked out the window and Molly realized she'd been holding her breath.

"Did Dr. Watson assist you with the materials?" Mr. Holmes asked after a minutes silence, he was still gazing out the window. Molly nodded her head. "Yes, Sir." she replied quietly. Molly watched him as he inhaled deeply and held the smoke in his lungs for a little longer than he probably should have before exhaling quietly out the window. Molly stepped back to place the used match in the ash tray she found on his desk.

"Mr. Holmes," Molly began, she turned around and was surprised to find him already facing her as if he had been expecting her to speak. "I… I'm still unsure as to why you exactly need my help running these errands. I'm not really qualified am I?" Molly spoke shakily. She didn't want him to think she didn't want the job but if he was going to use her for his errand girl she'd like to know more about why he needed her to fetch these things instead of him going himself.

Mr. Holmes nodded and played with the still lit cigarette. Molly watched as the smoke slunk around the drapes and seemed to almost cling to Mr. Holmes' tall form.

"Because I'm in need of more than just a maid, Miss. Hooper. I need an assistant. I read your file and you're more than qualified. Finish whatever it is Cameron might need you to do then we're going on a little field trip." Mr. Holmes said as he flicked the cigarette out the window. Molly was about to speak up when Mr. Holmes suddenly came up to her, put his large hands on her small shoulders and began ushering her out of the room.

"But sir-"

"No buts, Miss. Hooper. Right now I need to think. I'll come to you when I'm ready to leave. Now, off you go." Mr. Holmes said opening the door and pushing her out gently. "Oh, and Miss. Hooper?" Mr. Holmes said, poking his head out of the crack in the door. Molly turned around to face him. "Dress warm." Mr. Holmes said before closing the door, she heard the faint sound of a lock. Molly briefly thought about asking him why she needed to dress warmly and where they would be going but thought better of it. She did however linger by the door, listening. She heard nothing. Molly decided she had best find the butler Cameron and get to work. She hoped Mr. Holmes wouldn't be too long with whatever it was he needed to think about.

X

Sherlock Holmes stood by the closed door of his office. He didn't move. He only waited. He had terrific hearing and could almost hear Miss. Hooper's deep breaths through the heavy door. She hadn't moved yet and Sherlock realized he hadn't either. He listened. He almost wanted her to knock on the door again and ask more questions. The girl's shyness was an annoyance and he found himself wanting to make her come out of her shell. He knew based on her file she was very bright. Her test scores from university were proof enough.

Sherlock deduced she had left university to take care of the ill relative whom she had lost and was now in need of job before returning to her studies in pathology. Sherlock found it curious that a young woman like Miss. Hooper would have chosen such a morbid field as opposed to nursing or motherhood like most of the young women Sherlock encountered.

Finally Sherlock heard her small feet moving away from the door and the sounds of Miss. Hooper's voice and Cameron's. Sherlock let out a breath. He hadn't even realized he had been holding it. Why? Sherlock shook his head and went for his violin. Yes, he needed to think. Sherlock realized he was suddenly very tense. The strange… jolt he had gotten when he touched was uncomfortable and slightly confusing and he briefly thought about just firing her instead of wasting his time. He decided not to. He brought the instrument up and held the bow in his hand, hesitating only a moment before he began to play.

(AN: So this chapter is a bit longer than I expected it would be. Hope you're enjoying it so far, whoever you might be. Thank you for all of the reviews so far they're very appreciated. OH! I forgot to mention in my last AN that if you're interested you can follow me on Tumblr at Thank you again for reading and hopefully you'll review if you have the time. Good day!)


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Four

The Woman and the Girl

The first night Molly Hooper spent with Mr. Sherlock Holmes had been an interesting one. First of all when he was finally done thinking and playing his violin until well into the evening Molly was ready to go home, take her shoes off and curl up in her bed. She had been sitting in the kitchen eating a late dinner with Cameron the butler when Mr. Holmes suddenly opened and slammed his office door yelling "Miss. Hooper!" loudly, it echoed through out the entire house. Molly jumped from her seat, Cameron wishing her luck as she pulled on her coat and met Mr. Holmes outside where a car was waiting for them.

"Where are we going, Sir?" Molly had asked after a couple of minutes. Mr. Holmes had been writing in a note pad rather quickly. Looking up and down every so often out the window. She had thought he hadn't heard her or had chosen to ignore her when he finally looked up at her. "Oh, yes, we're going to my home." he answered her sharply as if, once again, she was supposed to be reading his mind. Molly's eyes widened. "But I thought-" Mr. Holmes groaned. "Oh, please, you're a bright girl, tell me," he paused looking at her and crossing his arms over his chest after pocketing the note pad.

"what did the good doctor tell you about me? I know John can hardly resist… gossiping." Mr. Holmes still stared at her, waiting for her response.

Molly remembered Dr. Watson's advice. Put him in his place.

"Mr. Holmes, it's not my place to spend my free time thinking about your marriage. It's your business." she said trying to sound stern and with that she looked out the window. She felt proud of herself. She felt-

"That's the best you've got?" he asked her. Molly looked at him, her mouth opened to speak but she couldn't find the words. Was no answer good enough for him? She wondered.

"Miss. Hooper, you're the quiet type and quiet types such as yourself spend more time observing than most people. Now, tell me, honestly, what do you think of my marriage?"

"I've never met your wife."

Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes. "And hopefully you never will." he replied coldly. Molly licked her lips nervously.

"I saw her for only a moment," Molly began. "She's very beautiful," she paused when Mr. Holmes once again rolled his eyes. "But… there's something cold about her. She strikes me as the type of woman who makes lists for everything." Molly watched him carefully, he was staring out the window again.

"Go on." he said quietly.

"Separate bedrooms, I would have assumed but we're going to your flat. Neither of you, if you forgive me Sir, seem the… cuddly type. You're both loners yet you've been thrown together for some reason-"

"That's enough." he said quietly but harshly. He suddenly turned to face her and Molly felt like she had gone too far. "Impressive, Miss. Hooper… for a maid." he said and the car pulled to a stop.

They came to a small flat. 221B Baker St. Mr. Holmes unlocked the door and ushered Molly inside quickly. He was becoming impatient but Molly couldn't help her slowness. She was tired and wanted to go home. They spent the rest of the evening researching of all things, poisons. One or two times Molly found herself nearly falling asleep. Mr. Holmes would rudely nudge her shoulder, one time he pinched her and had actually, for a brief moment, lost her temper at him. Molly was surprised by her own reaction. He had said that it seemed the best way to keep her awake to which she responded with a very stern request that he never pinch her again.

Molly couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She was leaning back against the leather sofa. The last thing she saw when she passed out was Mr. Holmes rolling up his shirt sleeves. He ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in irritation. Molly thought that it might be some sort of a nervous tick he did when he was frustrated.

When Molly awoke she was no longer on the sofa but laying down in a warm bed. She wiggled her toes. Shoes off, stockings on. She sat up slowly. She rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room. It was a modest bedroom with a dresser and the closet was opened slightly. Molly reached out and turned on the lamp.

"Mrs. Hudson!" she heard the unmistakable sound of Mr. Holmes yelling. Mrs. Hudson? Molly thought. She took note she was still wearing her black work dress. She yawned and finally stood up. Molly came out of the bedroom to find Mr. Holmes still in the same clothes, shirt sleeves still rolled up. He looked exactly the same. He didn't look tired or worn out. Molly could only imagine how she must have looked. "Oh, my dear, tea?" Mrs. Hudson walked by her with a tray of tea and biscuits. Mr. Holmes barely took notice of Molly. "Thank you." Molly replied as she took a cup of tea. She sat down on the sofa. She watched as Mrs. Hudson tidied up the kitchen a bit before saying goodbye and leaving, closing the door to the flat behind her.

"Mr. Holmes?" Molly said. Mr. Holmes replied with a "hmm". Molly frowned. "Mr. Holmes, why is Mrs. Hudson here? Are you feeling ill?" she asked him.

Mr. Holmes shook his head. "No, no. She's my landlady." he said dismissively, he hardly peered up from his book once. Molly nodded her head. "So… she's your nurse and landlady?" she asked him. She immediately noticed how Mr. Holmes paused. His fingers had been moving across the pages but had come to a sudden stop. He didn't move his head to look at her, just his piercing blue eyes. Molly held her breath. He looked… she couldn't place the look on his face.

"My… nurse? She said that?" he asked, his tone was serious. Molly stammered to find the right words. She explained that was what Mrs. Hudson had called herself when she told Molly about the job.

X

Sherlock took in everything Miss. Hooper was saying. She fumbled over her words like a toddler trying to explain the sky to an adult but couldn't because it lacked the vocabulary. He was not impressed with Mrs. Hudson at the moment but found it interesting that Miss. Hooper was doing her best to defend the old woman. It was not Miss. Hooper's fault, Mrs. Hudson had said something she shouldn't have. Sherlock had enough of Miss. Hooper's rambling. He held up his hand. He felt like she'd been talking for hours. "Enough. Forget it. And Miss. Hooper, I mean _forget _it." he said sternly. Sherlock snapped the book he had been holding closed, it made a dull thud. "Now, come and sort through these papers. I've narrowed down the poisons." he said. He watched as Miss. Hooper stood up and came over to help sort through the papers. He took a seat at the kitchen table. He watched Miss. Hooper out of the corner of his eyes.

Sherlock had known her a total of twenty three hours, give or take a few minutes. He had deduced everything he needed to know about her and yet there was something still nagging at him. Like an itch you can't scratch. It wouldn't go away. He looked her up and down as she read through the various types of poisons.

_"Still tired. Sleeps on her left side. Sleep talker. Not snorer. Weighs about 120 pounds, maybe less. Slow reader. Chews bottom lip when thinking… chews bottom lip when thinking… chews-" _Sherlock shook his head slightly, he realized was fixated on her lip chewing. Nasty little habit. He quickly glanced away and cleared his throat. "That's enough Miss. Hooper." Sherlock said standing up suddenly. Molly looked very surprised.

"Sir?" she asked. Sherlock shook his head. "Yes, you're still exhausted. Go home. Eat. Sleep or… whatever. Meet me here at 5:00 tonight." Sherlock said looking back down at his papers. He couldn't remember what he was looking for. "Damn it." he mumbled under his breath.

"But, Mr. Holmes, won't I be late for work?" she asked him. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance and pinched the area between his eyes.

"You daft girl, you work for me and I'm telling you to go home! Now!" he said harshly, waving her off with his hand.

X

Molly did not cry when he practically threw her out, at least not in front of him. She was fuming in the cab. She muttered under her breath, she wiped her tears angrily. She slammed her front door closed. Molly even showered angry. She scrubbed her body and shampooed her hair as she mumbled and accidentally got a little soap in her mouth. She blamed Mr. Holmes for it. Molly crawled into her own bed, she finally checked the time. It was only eight thirty in the morning. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and rolled onto her left side. "Stubborn, miserable, ungrateful, posh bastard!" Molly mumbled as she snuggled into the blankets.

"I won't go back. I don't deserve to be treated this way. Stupid git!" she continued to rant.

X

Sherlock lay back on his sofa at 221B Baker St. inhaling the cigarette smoke deeply.

"Sherlock!" he heard John's voice call. He didn't get up. It was Tuesday afternoon and that meant a visit from John. John always had Tuesdays off.

"You're smoking." John said removing his hat and gloves. Sherlock faked a pleasant smile. "You're observational skills are improving, Dr. Watson." Sherlock said sarcastically. John sighed and flopped down in his old chair.

"Hungry?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged. "This," Sherlock said gesturing to the cigarette, "is my lunch." John grimaced. "Delicious. Met your new maid, or errand girl. Molly, right?" John asked. Sherlock didn't reply but nodded his head.

"Right. Nice girl." John continued. Sherlock still didn't say anything. He only continued to smoke. "A bit timid." John remarked. That got the response John was looking for. Sherlock sat up. "She's bright." Sherlock simply said.

John smiled. "That sounds like a compliment." John pointed out. Sherlock put his cigarette out in the ashtray and waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be absurd." the consulting detective didn't give compliments. John changed the subject and they talked about other things. Mary was doing well and so was the baby. John was impressed with everything his daughter Hannah did.

"You do realize she's not saying real words." Sherlock said when John mentioned how Hannah had said something funny the other day. John rolled his eyes. He couldn't picture Sherlock ever having children, especially with Irene Adler. The thought had actually given John chills.

"How's the case going?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged. "I've narrowed down the poisons to at least two hundred." Sherlock said, that was progress for Sherlock Holmes but to the average person, meaning John Watson, it sounded like it wasn't even the tip of the iceberg.

"So… she's coming back then? Even after you yelled at her?" John asked as he pulled his coat on, he had spent a good hour and a half with Sherlock.

The consulting detective was peering out the window at the street.

"Don't worry about her, John. I would worry more about the six pounds you put on since little Hannah arrived." Sherlock said without looking at his friend. He heard John sigh. They said their goodbyes and made a plan for Sherlock to visit next week. Sherlock returned to his work. He was currently tracking down a female serial killer who prayed on lonely single men. He tried to delve back into the work but something was distracting him.

Perhaps it was the memory replaying in his mind of Molly Hooper chewing- no, _nibbling_- on her bottom lip...

He glanced at his watch, four thirty. He told Miss. Hooper to come back at five. Sherlock briefly worried that she might not come back. But Sherlock quickly shrugged his shoulders. What did he care if she came back or not? She wasn't anything important to him. She had barely proved herself as an assistant.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to realize how useful John could be. It wasn't that he was trying to replace John; Sherlock knew that with marriage came a family and when you have a family they're important and come first… or something like that. Sherlock wasn't planning on a family any time soon if at all. It was bad enough he was stuck in his sham of a marriage.

Thankfully The Woman wanted for very little. She had her own space and only requested that Sherlock kept up the appearance of them being married. He rarely saw her and when he did it was usually at some boring social function he hated going to. But Sherlock knew how to make real people ignore him. His unique ability to deduce a person's entire life in a single minute was amazing but it wasn't just their entire life he could deduce. Sherlock had outed more than one affair in the Woman's social circle- being sure not to mention any of her own love affairs- and it made Sherlock the odd man out when it came to his wife's parties. Sherlock didn't mind though. He usually stood in the corner, smoking and looking mysterious. Occasionally some poor sap would try to make conversation with him and Sherlock was quick to help them change their mind. Sometimes John and Mary would come and keep him company, he would never admit that he longed for it sometimes. But with the arrival of little Hannah Watson they hadn't been able to come as much.

Sherlock checked his watch. Four forty. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept the night before. Not that he minded. He was used to not sleeping. When Sherlock had realized that Miss. Hooper wasn't capable of staying awake any longer he had carefully picked her up and carried her to John's old room. He had gently removed her shoes and thought maybe to remove her stockings but felt that was too inappropriate, he was still her employer after all. Sherlock had toyed with the idea of touching her hair briefly before he clenched his fists and left the room.

When Sherlock had picked Molly up and held her close to him to carry her to the bedroom he had smelled her hair as her head was pressed against his chest. She was so light and her hair smelled like flowers. She was warm and welcoming as she, even in her sleep, clung to his body as he carried her.

Now, the next day, standing in front of the window, he could still smell her sweet scent on him.

Sherlock would not have called himself a womanizer before he married; no, that was more John's department. Sherlock had had women… friends. Not relationships. Just friends. Women friends who occasionally spent the night at his flat. Never anything serious. Until The Woman came along. The Woman was different from every woman Sherlock ever met. Most of the women Sherlock spent any length of time with were usually incredibly intimated by his intelligence and he didn't actually mind this. If he really wanted to sleep with a woman he knew how to pretend to be interested in the things they liked or knew how to sweet talk his way into their beds. Sherlock didn't like dumbing himself down but if he really wanted to sleep with a woman he wasn't bad at it. Thankfully he didn't crave sex constantly like other men.

Then he met The Woman. Irene Adler had been different from the other women because first of all she was intelligent and knew what she wanted and how to get it. Sherlock respected her greatly. He admired her. She was very much like him.

Independent, smart, cunning, quick and dominant. Suffice to say the sex was quite good. Sadly that was all they could agree on. Eventually their relationship, if they could even call it that, turned rather sour and she disappeared for a long period of time. She turned up months later and their relationship was somewhat rekindled however changed.

Sherlock found himself drifting through is flat reflecting on the differences between the The Woman and the girl who was now his assistant and maid.

Where the Woman was completely open about who she was, Miss. Molly Hooper was the opposite. She was nothing like the Woman.

Molly Hooper was shy, however bright, easily intimated and Sherlock deduced easily manipulated. She was book smart but not street smart. She was naive and slightly clumsy. She had very little stamina for someone who had interviewed to be a maid. However, where the Woman was cold and calculating Molly was warm and welcoming. She was sweet and even tempered. Sherlock deduced it would take a lot to set her off. The Woman didn't get angry often but when she did it was terrible. She liked to throw things when she was angry, primarily at him.

Where the Woman was dark and was open with her sexuality, Molly was again the opposite. Sherlock deduced that if Molly had had any sexual partners she could probably count them on one hand. But Sherlock didn't think Molly was very wanton. She seemed to be the definition of the word virginal.

Sherlock wondered what Molly's real temper was like. Maybe she was one of those ticking time bombs…? Sherlock hated those. But he respected Molly's professionalism thus far. He was impressed she was capable of putting up with him as long as she had. Most people couldn't stand to be around Sherlock as long as Molly Hooper had. And it had only been a day!

Yes, all in all, Sherlock was impressed with Molly Hooper. Though he would never tell her.

Sherlock glanced at his watch. Four fifty eight.

Sherlock felt his breath catch in his throat when he heard the knocking at the downstairs door. He felt himself want to rush to the door. It could be Molly Hooper. He glanced around the room. It wasn't John coming back, he hadn't left anything. Mrs. Hudson was probably napping and why would she knock on her own front door? Sherlock did his best not to run down the stairs and throw open the door. He set a quick but even pace as he descended the steps. He felt himself take a deep breath before opening the door.

X

Molly didn't know what possessed her to return to 221B Baker St. She didn't owe this man anything! He had been rude, unfriendly, unwelcoming and obnoxious. But for some reason Molly couldn't get something out of her head. Why hadn't he just left me on the couch? She thought. He could had just left her there easily. Why didn't he? Instead he had taken the time to not wake her, to carry her to the bedroom and remove her shoes and tuck her under the covers. He made sure she was comfortable unconscious but he didn't think to be accommodating while she was conscious? He truly was a confusing man. Molly knew she shouldn't expect too much of her employer but she was after all going to be helping him with what she could only assume were murder cases.

Molly walked up to the front door. She reached her hand out and knocked. There was silence for a moment. She was about to knock again when she heard the sounds of feet descending the stairs. She took a deep breath. Okay, Molly, you can do this, she thought to herself.

The door was opened and she was met by the face of Mr. Holmes. He was still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing before. He looked like he needed a shave.

"You came back." he said, he sounded surprised. Molly was surprised herself.

"Well, I need a job so…" she said tucking her hands into her pockets. It was cold out. She had changed into more comfortable clothing besides her black dress. She wore a mauve skirt that came down to her knees and a long sleeved white sweater and her heavy coat and pink scarf. Mr. Holmes stepped aside and let her enter. She followed him up the stairs.

"Thank you for… well for getting me into bed." Molly said, she then laughed nervously. Mr. Holmes just nodded his head. She hoped her poor choice of words got by him.

They spent the evening going over police reports, coroner reports… Molly found the science aspect of the case very interesting but the police reports were dull.

"If you were going to kill a man how would you do it?" Mr. Holmes suddenly asked her. They had been sitting reading in silence for almost two hours. Molly was surprised by the question. "I've never really thought about it." she answered. Mr. Holmes frowned.

Molly knew she gave the wrong answer immediately.

"Try to imagine the worst man you've ever met." he suggested. Molly chuckled. "That's not me." he added quickly. Molly sighed and looked at him from the couch where she was sitting to the desk where he was sitting.

"You're not the worst man I've ever met, Mr. Holmes. You just surprise me." she told him kindly. She noticed something flash across Mr. Holmes' face. Was this her turn to surprise him?

"But, since you asked… I guess I'd shoot him." Molly said. Mr. Holmes leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him. "You wouldn't poison him?" he asked her. Molly shook her head.

"No. I think poison would be a coward's way out. If you're going to do someone in, someone you truly hated, someone who really wronged you… you should be man enough- or woman enough- to look them in the face and not hide." Molly said.

Mr. Holmes smiled at her. Molly couldn't believe it! She almost couldn't believe the blush that was forming on her cheeks, she looked away. She didn't want him to see her blush. Unfortunately for Molly very little escaped Mr. Holmes.

X

Sherlock could tell he was beginning to like Molly Hooper. Yes, he thought. I think I'll keep her. He noted how she looked away when he smiled at her. He could tell she was attracted to him. If she was trying to hide it she was doing a dreadful job at it. Sherlock found that he liked the way she blushed.

Sherlock had once asked the Woman the same question… she had chosen poison.

(AN: I bet you thought this would be a chapter with the Woman and Molly going head to head maybe. Sorry for the tease. But don't worry they'll meet soon enough. This was just more Sherlock's random thought train comparing the two women. Hope you enjoyed it. Again, thank you for the reviews, I appreciate every single one of them. Thank you for reading this far!)


	5. Chapter 5- Apologize

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Five

Apologize

Two weeks. Two whole weeks spent in the company of Mr. Holmes and Molly Hooper was nearing her wits end. The man was unreasonable, almost unreliable. He was even more rude than we they had first met. Molly had decided that his act of what she had perceived then as kindness, when he had picked her up and put her to bed, was him simply getting her out of his way.

Mr. Holmes made Molly feel a number of emotions: useless, unintelligent, clumsy and unwelcome. Dr. Watson's advice to put Mr. Holmes in "his place" seemed easier said than actually done. On the rare occasions that Molly did attempt to stand up for herself, Mr. Holmes was quick to knock her down… once literally, by accident, but it was nonetheless humiliating.

Of the number of negative emotions Mr. Holmes made Molly feel she also felt an array of confusing emotions as well. When they sat in his silence, reading police reports or scientific journals or when he was gazing into his microscope at 221B Baker St., she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him. His long fingers moving smoothly over the pages of the old books or the thin paper of the magazines. He did everything as if it had all been planned out well in advance. He rarely blinked when he was reading, Molly noticed. When he played the violin he kept his eyes closed. Once, he had begun playing while Molly was in the room which rarely happened. She had lost herself in his music and let her eyes drift closed. When she opened them she blushed at the fact that he was staring at her. She quickly went back to work.

The confusing emotions and feelings were mounting with each passing day. Whenever their fingers would accidentally brush against one another or when he'd walk by her closely and their clothes would briefly touch she felt that same spark rush through her entire being. Molly was feeling things she'd never felt before and it scared her.

It was now two weeks later. And Molly Hooper had made a dreadful mistake.

"How… how could you have done this?" he had bellowed loudly. Molly stood in the doorway to his flat, hands fidgeting. She chewed her bottom lip nervously.

Molly Hooper had cleaned his flat. What else was she to do? He was out! He had phoned her at her home on her day off demanding he meet her at 221B but when she arrived he was nowhere to be found, just a note on the door telling her to come inside and wait for him. Molly waited an hour before she began cleaning. Molly wasn't the type to snoop, she respected Mr. Holmes' privacy and would not violate it. Now she felt as if she had. All she had done was a bit organizing and dusting. He seemed more upset about the dusting.

"Mr. Holmes," Molly began quietly. He stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze penetrating her. "You did hire me as a maid… it was just a bit of light work." she explained, looking down at her feet.

Mr. Holmes let out a loud groan. "Miss. Hooper, you were hired as my assistant. A_sissTANT!" _he shouted. Molly stepped back into the hallway a little. He advanced on her and Molly stepped back until he stood in front of her, rather closely.

"Oh, come now, you inept girl. I'm not going to hurt you. Never. I repeat, NEVER, clean my flat again." he said sternly, Molly knew he was staring down at her, she felt like a child. She nodded her head, still not meeting his gaze.

"Say. It." he said slowly. Molly took a deep shaky breath. "Mr. Holmes… I'll-I'll never-" "Look at me." he demanded. Molly groaned inwardly. He was so cruel. She glanced up and quickly said "Mr. Holmes I'll never clean your flat again" before she dropped her gaze to the ground once more. She noticed how close their feet were. Almost touching. She watched as his feet disappeared back into his flat. "Come along." he called from the flat. Molly didn't want to go back in. She wanted to throw something at him. Scream at him. Demand an apology. Molly was only doing her job. The job he hired her for.

Molly didn't want to be his assistant anymore. She understood why he didn't have one in the first place. Molly however needed her job and he paid her well so she returned to the flat, slowly and quietly. When she reentered the flat he was holding out an envelope, not looking at her instead he was reading something. She reached out and took it.

"A Christmas card and invitation. My… _wife _is throwing a Christmas party. She suggested I invite you." he said. Molly put the envelope in her pocket. When their work was finished he dismissed her. He walked her out and got into the car.

"Miss. Hooper's home, please." Mr. Holmes said. Molly looked at him, shocked. He was always dropped off first and then the driver would then take her home. Why was he changing his routine suddenly? Molly took Mr. Holmes to be a creature of some habits. Molly suddenly felt very nervous.

X

Sherlock could sense Miss. Hooper was nervous. After the cleaning incident which was followed by his temper tantrum he- though he didn't want to admit it- felt… guilty. She was only keeping herself occupied. She was doing the job she thought she had been hired to do. But when he walked in and found her standing on his sofa without her shoes on, humming to herself, dusting without a care in the world Sherlock had never been more… at peace? No. Happy? No.

When Sherlock slapped eyes on Molly cleaning his flat he had never been so attracted to another person before. The simple act of her cleaning his flat did not strike fear into his heart, it gave him a sense of calmness. A calmness he hadn't felt in many years. Sherlock's reaction was more out of being angry at himself than actually being angry at Molly. He wasn't angry with her. He disliked the emotions she was bringing out of him. She didn't even have to try.

So, there she stood, in her bare feet on his sofa, reaching for a bit of cobweb when his eyes glanced down at her pert behind. Sherlock's tirade immediately began after he gazed a little longer than what was appropriate of a employer.

Afterwards, when she wouldn't meet his gaze, he realized the damage he had done. He felt guilty to the point of almost feeling sickened with himself. She was just a girl… she didn't deserve his wrath.

Sherlock had been planning on inviting Molly to the Christmas party, he had even felt nervous about it, but after all of his yelling he deduced that she would be more willing to accept an invitation from his wife than anything at all from him.

And now they sat in silence as the driver took them to Molly's home. Sherlock didn't know exactly why he wanted to see where Molly lived. He had a pretty good picture of what it probably looked like. Then again… would she even invite him in? Sherlock had no problems inviting himself in… but now he didn't know what to do at all!

X

The car came to a stop and Molly turned Mr. Holmes.

"Goodnight, sir." she said and she opened the door and got out. She was a few steps away from her front door when she heard the distinct sound of a car door opening and closing. Molly froze. There were quick footsteps behind her.

"Miss. Hooper," she heard Mr. Holmes say. She turned to face him. She tried to stare at the fence behind him but couldn't help looking at him. He looked… distracted. "Miss. Hooper," he said a second time. His voice was… softer? Soft? Mr. Holmes wasn't soft, he wasn't gentle, he wasn't-

"May I come in?"

-wasn't asking to come into my house! Molly shouted inside her own head. Molly had every reason to give him a good hard slap to the face! First he screams at her for cleaning his flat then he asks to come into her home! And at such a late hour. And the driver was watching! All of these things and more were racing through Molly's head but for some reason all she could say was a simple and quick "yes".

Are you insane! Molly thought to herself. Yes, maybe she was. Maybe she was insane for letting the man who had done nothing other than tear her life down to it's bones and crumble them up into a fine powder and toss it to the wind.

Now they stood in her small living room. It was tidy. Molly hated a mess. She didn't like living in filth. She didn't think Mr. Holmes did either… or maybe he was just comfortable with what he called an "organized mess".

"It's," Mr. Holmes paused as he glanced around the house. Molly had turned on a lamp and the room was illuminated with a soft yellow glow. Molly waited for his cut throat deduction of her home. Please be gentle, she thought.

"Comfortable." he finally said. Molly let out a breath. Well, that wasn't what I was expecting, Molly thought. But she was relieved. Relieved that he hadn't decided to take a scalpel to her home and the things she loved. It somehow helped with the still soreness he had inflicted upon her earlier in the evening.

"Mr. Holmes," Molly began as she untied her scarf. "What… well, why are you in my house?" she asked politely. Mr. Holmes had his hands in his pockets. Though he described her home as "comfortable" he looked anything but. He looked out of place. He was upper class and he was standing in lower middle class. He was brandy and cigars in rooms with no windows and the doors closed while men puffed away without a care in the world to the people who only wished to have a home as comfortable as theirs. Molly was tea with a little milk, sometimes just a drop of honey, in a small two story house where smoking indoors was strictly forbidden and her father hated brandy.

"Miss. Hooper… I find myself feeling… well, first of all I find myself _feeling _in general," he began, removing one hand from it's place in his pocket. "I don't normally do this but I don't think I could look you in the eye again without telling you- and please keep in mind this is rather painful for me to admit- that I am… sorry for how I treated you earlier. I was… wrong." he finished his speech. Molly stood perfectly still for two reasons: the first being because she was shocked he had admitted he was actually wrong about something and the second being that during his speech he had been moving towards her slowly and was now standing very close to her. Very close indeed.

There was a pause as they just stood there, gazing at one another. "Please, forgive me." he said, his voice low as if he was afraid someone might hear the great Sherlock Holmes apologizing to little Molly Hooper.

"I… accept your apology." Molly said. Mr. Holmes let out a sigh of relief and smiled out of the corner of his mouth. He suddenly leaned down and quite unexpectedly kissed Molly Hooper on the cheek. The whole incident lasted a couple of second but he almost seemed to… linger? Then he pulled away. "Goodnight, Miss. Hooper." he said before turning away to her front door and he left without another word. Molly's heart was pounding in her chest. She had to sit down.

Molly sat down on the sofa and pulled her legs up to her chest.

"Oh my…" Molly whispered quietly to herself as her heart continued to pound and places began to… tingle. She took a shower and got herself into bed telling herself it meant nothing and he was just trying to be nice to her. But all those little lies she told herself didn't help.

Molly Hooper had a crush on her irritating, annoying, ridiculous, rude and down right mean employer, Sherlock Holmes.

"Damn it." she muttered before rolling onto her side.

(AN: Thank you for reading this far. I hope you're enjoying yourself. This chapter for some reason took forever to finish. Up next? A Christmas party thrown by the Woman. Thanks again for reading and reviews are always welcome!)


	6. Chapter Six: Merry Christmas

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Six

Merry Christmas

Molly Hooper had not been informed as to what kind of Christmas party she would be attending at the Holmes' residence. Molly had naively believed it was going to be a small party but then again she hadn't yet met Mrs. Holmes, or Irene Adler as she was better known in her social circle.

It had been roughly three weeks since Mr. Holmes had placed a simple kiss on Molly Hooper's cheek after apologizing for being- for lack of a better word in Molly's mind- a complete asshole. He had gone mad for a few moments after discovering her cleaning his flat while she waited for him to return. Molly had been afraid to return the following day, not because she feared his temper- though that had a little bit to do with it- but because of the feelings he was now making her feel.

Molly knew Mr. Holmes was most likely completely unaware of the feelings that he stirred inside her. The last three weeks had been positively stressful for Molly. She barely spoke and when he asked her if anything was wrong she'd quickly make up some silly excuse. She didn't want him to know of her feelings for him. But it was getting harder and harder to hide it.

After his apology in her home things hadn't been the same. There was more silence between them. Molly felt the tension every time she came to his flat. They rarely met at the home he shared with his wife.

Molly had never felt this way towards a man before. She had had crushes in the past but never like this. It scared her.

First of all he was older than her, he was married and he was rudest man she had ever met. He was the complete opposite of everything Molly Hooper had ever liked in a man.

But at the same time… Molly's mind would argue. He was handsome, he was intelligent, observant (that could be argued as one of his faults though), he was pleasant company when he was quiet. Molly was surprised by him every day.

Every day Mr. Holmes would expose her to something she had never seen or heard before. She had never met anyone like him. Father would hate him, Molly would think sometimes. Mr. Holmes was the smartest man she had ever met. He knew everything about everything. Except people of course. He didn't seem to have a handle on people whatsoever.

Molly had been nervous enough while trying to pick out something to wear for the Christmas party. She finally chose a simple black dress. The dress exposed her pale shoulders and came down to her knees. She let her hair down. Molly knew most women were either cutting all of their hair off or keeping it up or teasing it into a huge ball on their heads. Molly liked her hair straight down or in a pony tail when she was working. Molly had no idea what to expect when she arrived at the house for the party, she had hoped something small but what she got was anything but small.

The house was lit up like a Christmas tree. There were Christmas lights decorating the gate and the railing of the front steps. There were cars being parked by a valet. Molly walked up and presented her invitation readily. She was shown into the house. Molly had never seen so much life in the house before. It was beautiful. There was a band playing music. The large staircase was decorated with garland. The house was so vibrant. It was absolutely beautiful. It wasn't the cold almost museum-like house she had first stepped into on her first day. The house was completely different.

"Miss. Hooper!" she heard a familiar voice. She turned to see Dr. Watson walking towards her looking handsome in a charcoal grey suit. He was with a woman with short blonde hair, her protruding belly indicating she heavily pregnant. "It's good to see you again, Dr. Watson." Molly said politely. She exchanged conversation with Dr. Watson. His wife's name was Mary, she was eight months pregnant and by her words "ready to burst". She had a warm personality and she took Molly by the arm when a man named Lestrade came up to Dr. Watson offering him a drink.

"Have you met the lady of the house, yet?" Mary asked as she entwined her arm with Molly. Molly noted that Mary moved rather quickly for a woman so pregnant. "I'm afraid I haven't. I'm very curious." Moly said eagerly. She kept looking around the room in the sea of strange faces, none of them were Mr. Holmes. She remembered that Mr. Holmes had said something about the party being his wife's idea. Maybe he wouldn't be here. Maybe he was at 221B. Then why invite her?

Don't delude yourself into thinking he wants to see you, Molly thought miserably.

"Be careful what you wish," Mary said quietly. They stopped walking. Mary gave her a warning look. "Curiosity killed the cat." Mary resumed walking with Molly.

Mary's words did nothing to soothe Molly. In fact, it made her tenser.

The music suddenly came to an end and people were clapping. Mary and Molly came to stand in a large ballroom of sorts. Well, it was large for the size of the house. It was lit up with a beautiful crystal chandelier.

"Come, come, come everyone!" a woman's voice said.

"There she is. Irene Adler." Mary whispered to Molly.

Molly recognized Irene Adler immediately. The tall, dark haired woman she had seen weeks ago was currently standing in the center of the room holding a riding crop in one hand a drink in the other.

"I need a volunteer! Anyone?" Irene said moving around the room. Mary seemed to grip Molly's hand tighter.

A man's hand shot up. "Frank, come to the center." she said, taking his hand after ditching her glass to a waiter and leading Frank, a short balding man in a maroon suit to the center of the room. "Do you have any secrets, Frank?" Irene asked. He shook his head laughing. "Never!" he replied. The room filled with a snicker.

"Mr. Holmes will be the judge of that, won't you darling?" Irene said. All the heads turned towards Mr. Holmes, Molly's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't even seen him when she entered the room. "Too easy, Irene." Mr. Holmes called from his place in the room. "Affair with the secretary. Give me a challenge at least." People laughed. Molly immediately knew what Irene was planning. Was this her idea of fun? Picking a helpless victim to be dissected by her husband? Was this his idea of fun?

"Well, then… hmm… let's see." Irene's piercing gaze scanned the room. Molly's heart stopped when Irene's eyes immediately made contact with her own. Molly knew she should look away but she couldn't. The Woman slowly moved towards her like a snake about to strike at it's prey. "What about you? Miss. Hooper I presume? My husband's assistant. Come, help us with our little game." Irene said taking Molly's hand.

"She doesn't want to play." Mary said sternly, holding Molly's other hand. Irene smirked. "I think she does, Mrs. Watson. Come along, Molly. No need to be shy." Irene said and Mary let go of Molly's hand much to the younger woman's dismay.

Molly was lead to the middle of the room. She felt like a lamb being lead to the slaughter or a prized pig at an auction. Or some kind of slab of meat. Molly felt like shriveling up and crawling under a rock. "What about this one darling? Our new maid. Lovely little thing, don't you think folks?" Irene said, she made Molly turned around so people could get a good look at her from every angle. Molly wanted to cry.

Suddenly Mr. Holmes was standing before her. She felt her heart begin beating again, only she thought it might come out of her mouth. "Irene, enough." he said darkly. Irene shrugged her shoulders. "It's my party, Sherlock dear. Entertain me." she said coldly and quietly. She stepped aside.

"In just moments ladies and gentlemen you will witness the amazing ability of deduction," Irene said, she sounded like a car salesman. "You'll see why they call him the great and the terrible Sherlock Holmes."

Molly tried to focus on anything other than what was happening to her. Molly wondered why Mr. Holmes hadn't put a stop to this yet. She bravely glanced up at him, he was still standing in front of her. He looked calm but slightly uncomfortable like he had when he was in her house.

"Twenty three, only child. Parents are deceased. Nail biter." Sherlock said simply. Irene giggled. "Come now, darling, you've spent a bit of time with her. Anyone could have figured that out. Give us something juicy." Irene said crossing her arms over her chest. Molly closed her eyes fighting back her tears of humiliation. Mr. Holmes let out a sigh. He stepped closer to her. He suddenly reached out and took her hand in his. Molly looked up at him. His eyes were… kind? There was an apologetic feeling behind the usual coldness.

"Sleeps on her left side. Single, very single in fact. Probably no experience whatsoever," he paused and leaned closer. "No perfume usually but tonight she's wearing something light… she doesn't usually wear this much makeup but tonight she made an exception," Molly felt a tear leak out from her eye. He reached up and wiped it away. "The makeup isn't running," he continued. "So she splurged on something nice. The dress is black so she doesn't want to be seen, wallflower. She doesn't expose her skin this much, it's unblemished. The cut of the dress however suggests she's hoping to impress someone, to catch their attention-"

"I think that's enough." Molly said, finally finding her voice. She tore her hand away from his and rushed out of the room. She could hear Irene Adler's voice as she left. "Oh darling, it's all a bit of fun!"

Molly tried to get through the crowds of people in the halls and get to the front door. Molly couldn't though. She made her way into the kitchen and found a backdoor. She opened it and stepped out into the cold air. From outside she could hear music playing again. Some American rock blues song, a slow song. She could see people through the windows dancing slowly with each other. She turned away and found that she was standing in the backyard garden. She sat down on a cold stone bench. Molly buried her face in her hands and let herself cry. She shivered in the bitter cold. She had forgotten her shawl and her clutch purse!

"Stupid, stupid…" Molly muttered to herself. She didn't even have a hank-

All of the sudden a hand appeared in front of her. It held a white handkerchief. She looked up to see none other than Mr. Holmes standing there. One hand holding the handkerchief out to her and the other in his pocket. Molly took it from him but looked away, she didn't want to look at him. "You're not stupid, Miss. Hooper." Mr. Holmes said slowly. Molly still couldn't look at him. "May I?" he asked, she assumed he meant to share the bench. She couldn't deny him. It was his house after all. Molly scooted over and he sat down beside her, tapping his fingers on his knees.

"My wife is… well," he paused. Molly sighed. "She has a mean streak." he finally said. Molly shivered. "You have that in common then." Molly said miserably. She sniffled, both from crying and the cold.

Then Mr. Holmes did something that shocked her. Another act of kindness. He removed his dark blue suit and draped it over her shoulders. As he straightened the suit over her Molly dared to look up at him. He was very close. His proximity made her all tingly. He noticed her staring. Their eyes locked. "I… I tried to keep you away from her." he said quietly. Molly nodded her head and bit her lip.

X

Sherlock had not expected Irene to single Molly out. He had seen her cruelty on more than one occasion but he had hadn't anticipated this. She went after Molly like she was a cat playing with a mouse. Sherlock knew he couldn't fight Irene. She held all the cards when it came to what went on under their- _her_- roof. Sherlock was there to keep up appearances. Irene would find her way into someone else's bed to celebrate Christmas.

When Irene had made him go after Molly he had tried to be as gentle as possible. He wanted to deduce that she looked beautiful that she had indeed caught his attention the moment he had laid eyes on her.

Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine he had shared with John or something else entirely but he had noticed Molly the second she walked into the house. He had been watching her. When he saw she had made quick friends with Mary he had been delighted. He hoped Mary could warn her but no such luck. Sherlock knew that Irene had spotted Molly the moment she had stepped into the ballroom.

When Molly began to weep during his deduction of her he had wanted to throw caution to the wind and tell Irene to fuck off. He wanted to pick Molly up and carry her out of there like a knight in shining armor defending the sweet innocent princess from a fearsome dragon. Irene Adler was a beast that needing slaying and but also protecting. Sherlock had been quick to follow Molly out, before John stopped him telling him that she may need a little space. Sherlock gave her approximately ten seconds of space before he decided to go out into the garden after her.

Now, sitting so close to her, Sherlock could smell the special and new perfume she had bought. It, mixed with her natural scent, was something soft and light. Kind of like Molly. He hadn't thought twice when he decided to wrap her small frame in his suit. But he made a mistake. He hadn't counted on her finally meeting his gaze.

"I… I tried to keep you away from her." he had said and Molly began to nervously chew at her bottom lip. Without thinking, Sherlock reached out and cupped the side of her face with his large hand. He felt Molly tense but she relaxed after a moment. "Miss. Hooper…" he said quietly. At some point she had reached up and holding his arms, not to push him away… at least he didn't think so. "Mr. Holmes." Molly said back, but neither had anything new to say.

"We're too close." he said still leaning closer. Molly nodded her head. "It's… not appropriate." she replied. Sherlock also nodded his head.

"Very… very bad idea." Molly said. One of her hands had moved away from his arm and was now playing with his tie. Sherlock would never call Molly Hooper bold but in that moment she was slowly pulling him closer by his tie. Sherlock couldn't find it in him to fight back. For a moment, Sherlock Holmes let go and…

X

Molly took a firmer grip on Mr. Holmes' tie and pulled him the extra few tiny inches closer and pressed her lips to his. He froze. Their eyes were still open. He pulled back first. Molly was about to apologize and get up and run away and move out of the country before he grabbed the sides of her face and pressed his lips against hers. Molly's eyes finally fluttered closed. One of his hands slid around to the back of her head and held her closer while she held onto his tie for dear life.

I'm kissing, Mr. Holmes! She shouted inside her head. I'm kissing my boss! She thought, she knew she shouldn't be doing this. He was a married man- however unhappy- but married nonetheless. Pull away before it goes too far, Molly thought to herself. But she couldn't… wouldn't pull away.

X

Kissing Molly was unlike kissing anyone else. Sherlock had only ever been with experienced partners but Molly was the opposite. Her sweet innocent movements made it clear she was not at all used to doing this sort of thing. Sherlock hadn't thought about kissing anyone in quite some time. Kissing and sex and physical contact was something he had realized he could live without and could turn that switch off and on when he liked. But not when it came to Molly Hooper. Sherlock still hadn't figured out why she was different.

Sherlock yanked her closer. The feeling of kissing was always the same to Sherlock. The pressure, the saliva, the texture of the lips and tongue… but the feeling, the actual feeling that came with kissing Molly was something Sherlock was not expecting. She was eager to please, Sherlock deduced. He slid his tongue across her lips and she hesitated before granting him entrance to her mouth. She moaned sweetly as he kissed her as deeply as he could allow himself to.

Yes, kissing Molly Hooper was bringing out emotions Sherlock had done a good job keeping hidden. He found that he truly enjoyed kissing her, however inexperienced she might be. Sherlock found himself comparing Molly to Irene in his head. Where Irene was dominating and forceful with her kisses Molly was hesitant and shy, allowing Sherlock to make the final decisions in their movements. Sherlock noted how she still clung to his tie, he found that he liked keeping her on the edge of her seat (in this instance quite literally) as he kissed her.

Eventually they both had to come up for air, but Sherlock couldn't stop. He looked at her with a hunger that had been kept dormant for some time and this sweet innocent young woman had awakened it. He kissed her long neck and pushed aside his suit that she still wore to expose her soft skin. He kissed her small bare shoulder and nipped at it lightly being sure to keep his other arm around her waist. He didn't want her getting away.

X

So this is what passion feels like, Molly thought to herself. She felt the electric jolt she normally felt when she would accidentally brush against Mr. Holmes, but now it was multiplied by ten! Oh god, he's really good at this. Molly thought dizzily. She gripped his shoulders as he kissed her bare shoulder, he was holding her so close she could almost feel his heart beat. He moved to the front of her throat. Molly let out a surprised squeak when he suddenly lifted her legs and draped them across his lap. She barely had time to register the change of her position when he kissed her mouth again. Molly was happy to receive however she was surprised by his sudden lack of control. He was all over her. Molly never would have guessed he would ever want to be this near to her.

For a moment Molly wondered if this was just Mr. Holmes' way of making up for how his wife had treated her but she quickly dismissed the thought. The ever controlled Sherlock Holmes would never try and apologize in this sort of way. Would he? Molly wondered. Then she remembered… the wife. He was still married, even if it was to a shrew of a woman. Molly wasn't going to be maid turned assistant turned mistress.

Lover sounds better, Molly thought.

However Molly couldn't bring herself to refuse his kisses just yet.

X

Sherlock slid a hand up to her bare knee as he continued kissing her. All of the thoughts and feelings he had been at war with over the last few were coming to a fast close. He was allowing himself to feel an emotion so primal it almost unnerved him. In the past few short weeks this little young woman had completely undone him.

Sherlock prided himself on being calm and collected and yet Molly Hooper changed all of that. He pulled back from her lips a few inches, both of them breathing heavily.

"Molly…" he whispered raggedly, saying her name like it was the most beautiful name in the world. Molly liked the way he said her name. "Yes?" she replied, eagerly.

Sherlock didn't know what to say- well, he did. But he didn't want to scare her. He was a blunt man and when he wanted a woman he made it clear to the woman what his intentions were. They were not always honorable. Sherlock deduced that if Molly's father had been alive he would have chased Sherlock off with a loaded gun.

"I won't lie to you," he began quietly. "I want you Molly." He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb and watched the different emotions play out across her face.

Confusion, hesitation, fear, desire… want.

"I've never… never wanted a man- not like I do right now, Mr. Holmes." Molly said shyly but she still held his gaze. "You make me feel… very nice." she said, she was so polite. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk.

Sherlock tested the waters. He slid the hand that rested on her knee a little higher, his fingertips disappearing under the fabric of her dress.

"I could make you feel _very_ good, Molly." he whispered, his eyes clouded over with lust. Molly's hand slid down from his tie to lay gently on his chest.

"Here?" she whispered, she glanced around her and Sherlock chuckled.

"Of course not here." he said back to her. He leaned in kissed her gentler this time. She sighed into his mouth as her hand cupped the back of his neck. "You should go home. I'm sorry the evening went this route." he said kindly. Molly liked this new side of Sherlock. "It's alright. I'm not much for parties anyway." she said.

Sherlock walked her to the front of the house and ordered a car to take her home.

As the car pulled away Sherlock felt something new wafting over him. A new beginning perhaps? But as Sherlock turned to face the house his wife, the Woman, stood on the front steps smoking a cigarette. He approached slowly.

"Lovely little thing. Have you fucked her yet?" Irene asked cooly as she puffed away at her cigarette. Sherlock put his hands in his pockets.

"Since when do you care who I sleep with?" Sherlock asked, he took the cigarette from her took a long drag from it and handed it back to Irene. She flicked the ash harshly. "I don't care who you sleep with, husband dear." she said shrugging her shoulders.

"I do care who you love though." she said calmly.

Sherlock tensed. "Little early for love, Irene. Besides, we both know I'm incapable of it." Sherlock said turning back to walk towards the house.

"And we both know that's a lie." Irene said. Sherlock paused at the door. Irene tossed her cigarette onto the ground and walked towards him.

"Remember our deal, Sherlock."

"I remember very well." he said coldly. Irene put a hand on his cheek. He wanted to pull away.

"Oh Sherlock. You can run around with whatever little tramp you want- though I don't see tramp when I look at Molly Hooper- but at the end of the day remember… I have this." Irene said holding up her hand with her wedding band on it. "You ruin my reputation and I'll smash yours into the ground. The Holmes name means everything to you and as much as you pretend not to care you wouldn't dream of it ending in such a terrible way. It would be merciful not to get the girl's hopes up too much. You can love Sherlock, but it's a love that would destroy her."

Sherlock watched his wife walk back into the house and back to the party.

In a way Sherlock knew Irene was right. He loved too great. He destroyed the people he loved even if they came back to him in the end. Perhaps a new beginning was better left never starting.

After all, Sherlock had destroyed Irene. He had created a monster. She wasn't nearly as cold and harsh as she was now before she met him. No, because loving Sherlock Holmes meant leaving a piece of yourself behind. And Sherlock didn't want any pieces of Molly Hooper's sweetest to ever die because of him.

(AN: Thank you SO much for all of the wonderful and lovely reviews. I post them all on my Tumblr which you can find by searching lilysregdorpenname. Thank you again for reading and reviews are always welcome. PS- I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.)


	7. Chapter Seven: Don't Get Involved

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

EXTRA 'M' WARNING.

Chapter Seven

Don't Get Involved

Molly Hooper sat by her phone like one of those sad women she'd only heard about from friends at university. Molly didn't actually think those women existed in real life; she thought they were just urban legends told by other women to frighten other women from… well, Molly Hooper hadn't thought about from what exactly. But now, here she sat, in her living room where after the disaster that was the Holmes Christmas party- only the first part had been a disaster- she had rested against her front door, heart pounding and knees shaking wondering what she had been thinking?

It had been two days. Two whole days. Two days of wondering. Forty eight long hours of pondering. Forty eight hours of wondering whether or not to call Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The Christmas party had been on a Friday evening and Molly didn't generally work weekends unless Mr. Holmes called her in- what she would call a panic- he would call an urgent and important matter.

But Mr. Holmes hadn't called. She did however receive a cryptic message written in his hand that she had found in her mailbox stuffed amongst her other mail that simply read "wait for my call". That was yesterday. Molly barely got any sleep. She didn't know what to think!

Molly had kissed her boss. Well, he had initiated the kiss and she had happily received it. But that's not what was eating Molly up inside, besides the fact that he still had yet to phone. No, what was eating Molly up was that she had not only kissed her boss but had kissed a married man. She knew Mr. Holmes was in an unhappy marriage and Molly definitely did not like his wife but that didn't excuse the guilt she was feeling. She felt like a tramp. Kissing a married man in said married man's own house! Well, in the garden anyway.

So, here Molly Hooper sat waiting for her telephone to ring holding her cup of tea in her hand when suddenly-

_Knock, knock, knock…_

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin. She shakily set her cup down and went to the door. Without looking through the peephole she opened the door. Standing there was none other than Mr. Holmes himself. Molly held her breath.

"May I?" he asked politely. Molly stepped aside and allowed him to enter her home. She was torn between wanting to slap him and kiss him. She wanted to do both badly.

Molly looked him up and down. He was wearing one of his black suits that made him look just perfect; the man really knew how to wear a suit. He was also wearing his heavy overcoat, his hands in his pockets. Molly closed the door quietly and leaned against it. "I thought you'd call." Molly said, looking down at her feet shyly and then back up at him again.

Mr. Holmes nodded his head. "I thought this discussion would be better in person." he said. Molly's heart beat like a war drum. What discussion? Molly thought, she panicked. She moved away from the door and went to the kitchen and began wiping down the countertop. She heard Mr. Holmes follow her.

"Mr. Holmes, I understand if you don't want me as your assistant anymore. It's perfectly understandable. After our… well, after our encounter at the Christmas party it's completely understandable-"

Mr. Holmes took her hands suddenly in his. Molly looked up at him.

"Miss. Hooper- _Molly_, I did not come here with the intention of ending our professional relationship." he said calmly. Molly believed him. "You didn't?" she asked. He nodded his head. She sighed in relief.

"However," he said, and he moved to sit down at her kitchen table, still holding her hand she remained standing. "I do think we need to discuss our… personal relationship." Molly sat down across from him, he released her hands.

Mr. Holmes clasped his hands together in front of him. He looked nervous.

X

Sherlock needed to use the right words. He had made his decision and he needed to follow through. He knew he didn't love Miss. Hooper- _Molly_. He hadn't known her that long. He didn't believe in love at first sight and frankly he didn't believe in romantic love either. Molly was different though. She made him almost want to believe in romantic love. That love wasn't some silly little fantasy and that it did exist and that everyone was meant to have someone in their lives who could be in love with them.

Sherlock had thought this over again and again and he finally came to the conclusion that he wanted to begin a physical and intimate relationship with Molly. He knew becoming intimate with someone younger than himself and less experienced had it's draw backs but he couldn't deny the strangely erotic feeling and ego boost he got when he thought of how he'd be the first person to intimately touch her. She drove him crazy with fantasies and she didn't even know it.

"Molly, I am not a kind man by nature. In my experience kindness gets you nowhere- don't look at me like that- and that is why I seem distant or cold or rude to people who don't understand. But I have my reasons for being the way I am. I'm telling you this because if you should choose to enter a personal and intimate relationship with me you cannot expect me to treat you differently. I will not be more attentive or less rude. I'm not very romantic. I prefer the practical approach. I will not give you sweep you off your feet romance nor will I make false promises. This, Molly Hooper, is my vow to you." He leaned back in his chair after his speech, crossing his arms over his chest.

Molly nodded her head.

"Mr. Holmes… I understand what kind of man you are. But for the life of me I cannot understand why you're interested in me." Molly said, fidgeting with the plastic that was peeling off of the table. Sherlock stood up and pulled her up to her feet.

"Molly, I have been exposed to all sorts of women and none of them have ever made me feel like you have made me feel. I can't explain it myself. But because of that reason I don't wish to be parted from you. If you decide you don't want me then I will accept that. You'll still have your job." he said quietly, leaning in close to her. Molly gripped his hands in her own.

"Do you want me, Molly?" Sherlock asked. Molly nodded her head quickly. "Do you want me to touch you?" he asked, his voice getting deeper by the second. Molly still couldn't find her voice. Sherlock leaned in but still didn't kiss her just let his lips hover over hers. He pressed his hand to the small of her back and thrust his hips against hers. She moaned and let her eyes close. "That's right, my girl. Just feel." he whispered before kissing her. Molly wrapped her arms around his waist as he pressed himself against her. She slid his heavy coat off his shoulders where it landed on the table. He picked her up and carried her into the living room where he sat down with her in his lap, her legs across his thighs.

It reminded Molly of the Christmas party. Only she was warmer and more comfortable and there wasn't a chance of someone walking in.

Sherlock slid his hands up her skirt and just stroked her bare skin. She pressed her forehead against his. Sherlock pulled his hands away for a moment to remove his suit jacket. He tossed it onto her father's sitting chair. Molly reached out and loosened his tie and unbuttoned two of his white buttons.

Sherlock's hands resumed their stroking.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes…" she moaned. Sherlock almost corrected her but then realized that he enjoyed it thoroughly when she'd say Mr. Holmes… even more so now that she was moaning it. He parted her thighs and pressed his palm against her center. Molly clenched her thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. "Has anyone touched you here, Molly?" he whispered into her ear before nipping at her ear lobe. Molly shook her head. He smirked. She was so wet. So wet and innocent. She loosened her thighs a bit. Sherlock began to discovering the beautiful land that was Molly's womanhood. "You know… no one… has, Mr. Holmes." she replied. Sherlock chuckled.

"Oh… yes, you feel very nice." Sherlock whispered, his hot breath sending delicious chills down her spine and to her nipples. Sherlock discovered that sweet little Molly Hooper liked dirty talk.

Or maybe just being talked dirty to. "Do you like that?" he asked her, she nodded her head quickly. She watched his hand through her skirt and her mouth opened as if to say something but only a gasp came out as he stroked her wet slit up and down through her soft underwear.

"Sir… oh…" she moaned sweetly. Sherlock loved it. He turned her head to face him, his hand on the back of her head as he pressed his mouth to hers again, thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth. She moaned as he twirled his tongue around hers. She surprised him when she took the upper hand and sucked his tongue greedily into her mouth. Sherlock groaned and with his other hand grasped her hip and thrust his hardness against her bottom. She gasped at the feel of him.

"You feel that?" he whispered against her lips. Molly nodded her head. "That's what you did to me when I yelled at you at my flat," he looked into her eyes as he said this. Her eyes widening. "It wasn't the cleaning, Molly, it was your sweet little ass in that black dress and the way it moved so perfectly when you cleaned. I wanted to fuck you." he said, he was breathing heavily. At the mention of the word "fuck" Molly gasped. He continued thrusting against her. He moved her so she straddled his hips. She removed his tie completely. He pushed her skirt up higher and pulled her closer to his aching erection.

Sherlock began moving her steadily. "Do you touch yourself, Molly?" he whispered bringing her close to his chest. Molly nodded her head, blushing furiously. Sherlock liked it when she blushed but when she blushed while he was touching was even better. "What do you think about? Tell me." he demanded. Molly was trying to find the words while trying to get control over her body. But he was doing things to her- making her feel things she had never felt.

"I… I imagine you touching my breasts." she whimpered. Sherlock raised an eyebrow then slowly slid his hands from her hips to her small but lovely breasts. Molly gasped as he tore the shirt away from her body and quickly undid the clasp in the back. She held it to her chest. He stroked her cheek. It had all happened so fast. Molly couldn't believe he'd only been in her home for fifteen minutes and she was already half naked.

"Wait." she said placing a hand on his chest, firmly. Sherlock was surprised at her strength. "We… can we just…?" Sherlock nodded his head. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks, they felt extremely hot. Sherlock knew he had gotten carried away. When he was with a woman that didn't happen. He was usually able to keep himself composed. Not with Molly though.

"It's alright, Molly." he said, he meant it. He reached up and put his hands around her back and clasped her bra closed again. "It's wonderful," she said hurriedly, "but it's just… so fast. Too much too fast." Molly was babbling again and for once it didn't annoy him. He found it… cute? No. More endearing than anything.

Sherlock found her shirt and slipped it over her head. She excused herself to use the bathroom while he sat on her couch willing his erection to go down. It was working but the knowledge that she was in the bathroom either A: freshening herself up or B: touching herself, was making it harder to get himself under control. Sherlock was somewhat grateful she had put a stop to it but was also disappointed. After all he was a man with a raging hard on with a lovely girl on his lap. Sherlock would have had to be inhuman not to feel disappointed! And as much as John liked to point out that Sherlock acted more like a robot than a person, Sherlock knew deep down his was not a robot. On the contrary: it was because Sherlock knew he could be incredibly emotional he decided to act so cold.

Sherlock's circumstances also had made him unpleasant. His wife, the morbid fascinations he had, his past, his family… they all had played some part in morphing him into the man he was today. A cold, distant and unpleasant man ninety eight percent of the time. On those rare two percent days he was usually with Molly.

Molly Hooper had made Sherlock want to be a good man. To be a hero. But Sherlock had been in the hero's seat before and it was nothing special. In fact, the more people look up to you the more people hate you. The more people worship you the more people bask in your fall.

When Sherlock heard the bathroom door open and the pitter patter of Molly's feet coming down the stairs he straightened himself up in his seat. He had unbuttoned a few more of the buttons on his shirt because they were becoming constricting. He hadn't bothered to retrieve his tie. He wasn't finished with Molly just yet.

Molly came around the corner and hesitantly approached him. He held out his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked her. Molly nodded her head. "Molly, tell me the truth." he said. Molly sat down on his knees, his hand coming to rest on the top of her thigh. "Is this what you were expecting to happen when you came by today?" Molly asked. Sherlock shook his head. "Honestly, no. But then again hopes and reality are rarely ever in tune with one another." Sherlock said. Molly's eyes widened.

"You… you hoped it would happen?" she asked him. Sherlock smiled and nodded is head. "Oh… well. Oh." Molly said, surprised. Sherlock leaned back on the couch with her in his arms.

"Am I your girlfriend?" she asked him. Sherlock chuckled. "Girlfriend?" he joked but stopped immediately when Molly gave him a serious stare. He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I wouldn't label you Molly. You're my employee during the day and at night… you're my… very special lady friend." he said as politely as he could. He didn't want to offend her. Sherlock hated labels. And he honestly didn't know what to call her.

Sherlock didn't want to call her his "mistress" because it sounded tacky when it was in the context of Molly Hooper. It sounded like it made her cheap. "Lover" sounded just as tacky.

"Lady friend?" Molly repeated, as if she was trying it out. She shrugged. "Whatever you want to call me is fine." she said sweetly. "And you'll be my Man Friend." she said smiling and stroking his jawline. Sherlock smiled. "Man friend? Makes me sound old." he said tapping her thigh gently. Molly giggled.

"You're not old. Mrs. Hudson is old." Molly said. Sherlock stroked her thigh. "Let's not talk about Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock whispered before kissing Molly again. She moaned softly as she ran her hand through his short hair. Molly briefly wondered what it looked like longer. Sherlock moved her to lay on her back. One of his legs came to rest between her legs. He hovered above her kissing her gentler than earlier. Little nips to her lips then deep gentle bites to her neck.

"Ooh… yes." she whimpered when he suckled on her pulse point. He felt it beating rapidly beneath his lips and teeth.

"You're such a sweet thing, Molly," Sherlock whispered. She moaned again at the sound of his voice. "You're so soft and sweet. You taste amazing." he kissed her again, he wondered if she tasted amazing everywhere? He slid his hand up her shirt and let it rest on her stomach, he felt the muscles twitch beneath his fingers. Molly's hands ran down to his vest and quickly removed it from his person leaving him in his trousers and tight white shirt. Sherlock lightly stroked his fingertips over her belly and got the reaction he was hoping for. Her back arched slightly when he would drag his fingertips over her skin. She'd gasp and writhe and rub herself against his leg.

Sherlock finally parted her legs completely and moved in between them and pressed his renewed hardness against her quivering center. "Oh, fuck." he moaned as he began to thrust against her, showing her exactly how he would fuck her on her couch. Molly clenched her eyes closed and clung to his back. Her skirt had ridden up her legs and they were wrapped tightly around his waist.

All that separated Sherlock's manhood from Molly's aching womanhood were his trousers and her thin panties. He wanted to rip them away with his teeth. He wanted to tear them to pieces with his hands. He kept thrusting against her. She clenched her legs around his waist. "Are you going to come, Molly?" he whispered against her lips. She nodded her head. He grasped the side of her face. "Look at me." he commanded. Molly's eyes opened but he could tell she was embarrassed. He didn't force her to keep them open and eventually they closed again.

Sherlock sat up a little with her legs still wrapped around him, he was on his knees and thrust harder against her. He wanted to be inside her terribly but knew she wasn't ready for that. "Shit." he groaned as he felt his orgasm approaching. He reached down and pressed a finger to Molly's bud and flicked it. Molly cried out and wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her close to his chest and thrust urgently a couple more times before he came with a load grunt. "Fuck… fuck." he said through gritted teeth. Molly was breathing heavily and shaking. She had come.

Afterwards Molly excused herself to take a shower. Sherlock sat in her bedroom. He observed it. It was still somewhat childlike. Lots of baby pink. Her comforter was baby pink with flowers, her walls were white with small paintings here and there. Her desk was white with books and a notepad and a diary in plain sight. Sherlock, however curious, knew better than to try and snoop through her personal diary. He really wanted to though.

Sherlock was still trying to regain control of his body. He knew she was naked in the shower, of course she was! She wouldn't be showering with her clothes on, you idiot. Sherlock thought to himself. He stood and looked at a picture on her desk of Molly with an older gentleman, father he assumed. It was then that Sherlock realized that his deduction of her having lost a loved one was true and that it was a little closer to home than he realized. She had lost her father. Sherlock wondered what kind of a man Mr. Hooper was. His thoughts were interrupted when Molly emerged from the shower dressed in a white dressing gown. He smirked. Apparently everything about her was virginal, right down to her clothing.

Molly came towards him. "The shower is free if you want it. I can wash your clothes. You can borrow one of dad's dressing gowns if you want. That's not morbid is it?" she asked him. Sherlock shook his head. "Thank you." he replied.

Sherlock showered and dried off and Molly gave him the dressing gown and a pair of pajama pants that also belonged to her father. Molly realized this was the first time she'd seen him shirtless. She bit her lip. He had a beautiful body. He wasn't terribly bulky but he wasn't frighteningly skinny. They lay facing each other their hands entwined together.

"Do you have any other siblings besides Mycroft?" Molly asked him. Sherlock seemed to tense. He rolled onto his back and placed his hands on his stomach and stared at the ceiling.

"I had a younger brother." he replied quietly. Molly watched his features. He looked… sad. Well, as sad as Sherlock Holmes could look or allowed himself to be. "What happened to him?" she asked, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

"He… we lost him." Sherlock said back to her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Molly said, she felt guilty. She didn't mean to open up old wounds. Sherlock turned his head to face her.

"Molly Hooper, how is it that you make me want to tell you all of my deepest and darkest secrets?" he asked her. Molly knew it was probably a rhetorical question. They just lay there staring at each other feeling a peace neither had felt in a long time.

It was a kind peace only two people who had been lost for so long in their own worlds could feel. They had both been lost for so long and finally found a person who was just as lost as they were to share everything with.

Molly knew that even if it took Sherlock Holmes a lifetime to tell her all of the things that plagued him she would always be there waiting.

Sherlock knew that if Mycroft could have seen them (he was really glad that he couldn't) he would have said "Sherlock, you idiot, don't get involved!" Sherlock knew this was probably a mistake but how could it be? He felt like he belonged with Molly. Everything seemed to feel right with her.

So why was Mycroft's voicing bouncing around his head as he tried to sleep?

_"Don't get involve."_

(AN: Sorry this chapter took so long to update! Hope it the "smuttyness" wasn't too much for ya but it is rated 'M' for a reason. Reviews are always welcome. Thank you so much for reading this far! Love you my little demon darlings!)


	8. Chapter Eight: Cruel Observations

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

**Once again this chapter is rated VM (VERY MATURE)**

Chapter Eight

Cruel Observations

Molly was fixing herself breakfast when there was a knock at the door. She knew it couldn't be Sherlock, he was spending the day with John and Mary and she wouldn't see him until tonight. Molly didn't often get visitors so she was surprised- extremely surprised- when she opened the door and there was none other than Irene Adler, Sherlock's wife. Molly knew slamming the door in the other woman's face would be considered very rude and Molly wasn't known for her rudeness.

"Good morning." Irene said pleasantly but Molly sensed something sinister about the Woman. Molly didn't trust her. Sherlock hadn't told Molly much about his marriage and frankly Molly preferred it that way. It made having an affair- even though there had been no sex- with a married man easier. Molly still felt guilty though.

Irene was wearing a beautiful green suit and a matching hat. "May I come in?" she asked. Molly decided not to be rude and allowed Irene into her home. She regretted it. Molly watched Irene's cold stare take in her surroundings. Unlike Sherlock who had described Molly's house as comfortable Irene didn't say anything. She removed her hat and sat down on the very same couch Sherlock and Molly had been, a day earlier, wildly thrusting and panting against each other like animals. Molly's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"You've taken a liking to my husband. Not many people do." Irene said, she crossed her legs like a lady would. Molly knew Irene Adler was no true lady though. But Molly couldn't say the same for herself when the Woman's husband was currently seeing Molly in a way that was more personal than professional.

"Has my husband told you anything about me?" Irene asked. Molly shook her head, she was still standing by the now closed door. Irene smiled.

"Funny. Usually he doesn't mind divulging people's secrets." Irene commented, mostly to herself. Molly straightened her back. "Maybe he respects your privacy more than you give him credit for." Molly said with a little more attitude than she had meant to.

The last thing Molly wanted was a battle of wits against Irene Adler. Molly had the impression that she would be on the losing side. Irene took out a velvet pouch of tobacco and some cigarette paper and began methodically rolling a cigarette. Molly cringed when she watched small pieces of tobacco fall to the carpet. Molly hated a mess.

As Irene Adler rolled her cigarette she spoke very calmly and very slowly.

"For some reason my husband has taken an interest in you- no offense but you're not really his type. You're shy, virginal, mousy, slow- not entirely dimwitted but that does remain to be seen- your breasts are too small, your lips are too thin. You wear no makeup or try to make yourself look… well, like much of anything," Irene paused to light her cigarette with an engraved cigarette lighter. Molly couldn't make out what the engraving said from where she was standing.

"What part of this isn't supposed to be offensive?" Molly snapped, moving slowly towards where the other woman was sitting. Irene let out a slow drag. In that moment, Irene reminded Molly of Mr. Holmes.

"Observations aren't always meant to be cruel, Miss. Hooper." Irene said, she was staring at Molly liked a hawk ready to snatch up it's prey. "But look at you Miss. Hooper, with all these cruel observations you've stilled managed to capture the attention of the most unlikely of men. My husband." Irene took another long drag off her cigarette. Molly went to crack a window. She heard from behind her Irene flick her ash onto the floor. Molly cringed.

"I think I'd like you to leave." Molly said as she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. Irene stood up and walked to the door. "Let me give you some advice," Irene said as Molly opened the door. "Get out now while you still can." Irene looked Molly directly in the eye. There was suddenly a softness to them. A sadness even. It made Molly feel a spark of compassion for the Woman but not enough to forget her harsh words from before.

"My husband… he'll hurt you. He won't mean to. He won't even have to try. But he'll destroy you. Find a sweet boy. Someone sweet like you. Because you are sweet, Miss. Hooper, and if there is one thing my husband doesn't do… it's sweet." Irene closed the door behind her.

Later that night, as Molly helped Sherlock with a particular gruesome triple murder case, she couldn't help but go over Irene's visit again and again in her head.

"You're distracted, Molly." Sherlock said, he sounded annoyed. Molly quickly apologized. She was hurt he didn't ask her what was bothering her but continued going about his work.

As the night continued Molly couldn't help but ask him "do you think my breasts are too small?" Sherlock immediately looked her up and down and shrugged. "Why the devil would I care about the size of your breasts?" he asked her, he turned back to his microscope. Molly sighed.

"Your wife paid me visit today." Molly said, she waited for his response. She noticed he was no longer playing the nobs on the microscope. He was perfectly still. "Oh?" he replied. Molly nodded her head.

"Mr. Holmes, she knows about us." Molly said worriedly. Sherlock only shrugged again. His lack of response was agitating her.

"Don't you care?" Molly asked, when he said nothing she slammed her hand down on the table. She was losing patiences with him. Sherlock finally looked up. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, pushing his chair out and standing up. Molly threw her hands up and turned her back to him. "Something… I don't know. Something other than nothing." Molly groaned. She felt Sherlock's hands on her shoulders and he began rubbing them. Molly sighed and let her head fall back on his chest.

"She said you don't do sweet." Molly said. Sherlock chuckled. "She's right. I don't. My idea of a romantic evening is solving crimes… with you." Sherlock said, his lips close to her ear. Molly knew he was trying to distract her from talking about Irene. Molly didn't want to press the subject but it was really bothering her how calm he was being.

It was then that it occurred to Molly that perhaps she wasn't the only woman Sherlock had… "solved crimes" with. How many other women had there been? Irene had said Molly wasn't his type. What did he like? Did he like dominant women like Irene? Or did he go after demure girls like herself? Molly began feeling jealous.

"She said my breasts are too small. My lips are too thin, whatever that means. I might as well join the league of spinsters!" Molly said, sadly. Suddenly Sherlock turned her around and grasped her face in his hands. She thought he might kiss her. She wanted him to. But he didn't.

"You are not a spinster. You have a man who wants to take you to bed every time he's near you. How many spinsters can say that?" he asked her. Molly smiled and blushed. "Maybe my aunt Judith-" he cut her off and finally kissed her. He just pressed his lips to hers urgently. Quieting her. Molly gave in. He pulled back just a little. "I don't care about your aunt Judith." he whispered. Molly put her hands on his waist. "Don't let Irene get to you. She's always been the jealous type even with all the lovers she's had on the side." Sherlock said softly. Molly nodded her head. He began to deliver little nips across her neck and jaw. Molly gripped his waist tightly as his hands slid down to grasp her backside and press her against him. She gasped as she felt his arousal against her belly.

"I thought… we were… working." Molly whimpered as he slid his hands up her skirt. "We are," Sherlock replied. "I need to do some research." he said before he picked her up, bridal style and began carrying her towards his bedroom. He nudged the door open and brought her to sit on the edge of the bed. He knelt down in front of her and took off her shoes then reached up under her skirt, as he did this he pressed his mouth to hers hungrily. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his hair. His tongue fiercely conquered the inside of her mouth. Molly moaned deeply as she felt him tear off her underwear, tossing them behind his head. He placed his hands on her waist moving her back up the bed.

"I like your breasts." he said, his voice so deep it sent shiver down her spine in the most delicious way.

Molly bit her lip as he held her wrists above her head in one of his hands. He slid his free hand up her shirt and caressed her breast under her bra. He continued kissing her mouth for a little while longer before going to her neck.

He moved down to where her shirt, which was now over her breast. He pulled the cup of her bra down and took her stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue.

Molly struggled out of instinct against the hand that held her small wrists hostage. "Oh… sir!" Molly moaned.

Sherlock groaned and released her wrists only to pull her shirt over her head. Molly watched through heavy eyelids as he began to unbutton his shirt, he yanked the shirttails roughly out of his trousers and let the shirt fall somewhere on the floor or possibly on the bed. He moved between her thighs and gripped her hips and began to thrust his clothed erection against her warm center.

"Molly… I want you… I want you so much." Sherlock moaned deeply and Molly leaned up and kissed him and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist meeting him thrust for thrust. "I want to fuck you, I want to be the only man that touches you." Sherlock whispered darkly into her ear as he slowed his pace. Molly's lips parted. She couldn't take her eyes off of him and he in turn couldn't look away from her. She believed him. She trusted his words. She trusted his possessive nature.

Molly felt one of his hands come down to the waistband of her underwear. She immediately clapped her hand over his and gently shook her head. _"No." _she thought but she didn't say it but she knew he read the message loud and clear. She watched as something that could only be described as disappointment washed over his face. But instead of voicing the reasons why she should let him have sex with her instead he nodded his head, kissed her forehead and moved his hand back to her hip. Molly was relieved. She wanted to make love to him- or "fuck" as he put it- but she wasn't ready.

The idea of sleeping with a married man still made Molly feel dirty.

Sherlock reached down suddenly and began unbuckling his trousers. Molly panicked and for a brief moment she feared he might try and force her. "No need to panic," Sherlock said, as if reading her mind, he seemed to be able to do that easily. "I'd rather not ruin my trousers." he said simply. Molly watched as he expertly slid the belt from it's loops then watched with burning cheeks as he undid the button and slid the zipper down, his black underwear coming into view and more importantly his rather endowed manhood. Molly looked away, she knew she was as red as a pepper! Sherlock chuckled. "Still shy?" he whispered playfully.

Molly was about to say something smart when she felt him press his almost bare erection against her quivering womanhood. It sent a powerful jolt through her, so powerful she gripped his back digging her nails into his flesh. He groaned and pressed harder but slower. She felt his tip slid against her slick opening.

The tip of his erection pressed against her throbbing nub.

Molly knew they were treading dangerous ground… but she trusted him.

"Oh… oh god." she moaned. Sherlock began kissing down her chest and sliding back down the bed. Molly missed his warmth and the connection of his body against hers. "Relax." Sherlock said, placing one hand on her belly and gently stroking her there.

The next thing Molly knew he threw her legs up over his shoulders and spread her wide. She blushed furiously and put a hand over her face. He was looking at her most private of privates! She felt shamed for a moment.

"It's alright." Sherlock said kindly. Molly kept a hand over her face though. She had a pretty good idea of what he was about to do and even though she felt excited at the prospect she couldn't bring herself to watch him.

The first swipe of Sherlock's tongue made her cry out loudly. The next was slower and the next was slower… and the next… until he found a rhythm. He sucked on her clit and then began to use his fingers, only one at first, gently stroking into her. Molly's moans were only getting louder. He suckled on her sensitive clit while gently thrusting two fingers into her. He pulled back for a moment to ask her if she liked it and Molly nodded her head quickly. She reached down, eyes closed, needing something to hold onto. Sherlock's hands found hers, their finger entwined as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth.

"I… oh, sir… I'm gonna-" Sherlock thrust his fingers faster and continued sucking on her clit.

Finally, Molly let go and cried out as she came. Sherlock held her hips still as she climaxed.

As Molly came down from her high she glanced at him, his head was resting on her thigh and she watched as his hand moved quickly between his legs. Molly then realized he must have been pleasuring himself while he was pleasuring her.

Molly watched completely fascinated and enraptured as he stroked his erection. She could see it, only a little. He was thick and long. Molly felt a twinge of fear that he wanted to shove it inside of her. To "fuck" her with it.

Molly watched as Sherlock began to approach his end, he suddenly came up to his knees and she could completely see it now. She watched as he gripped her hip, hard enough to leave a bruise, as he suddenly came with a deep groan. She jerked back out of instinct but he held her still. She felt something wet land on her thigh. He hunched over her, stroking himself a couple more times. He landed next to her on his back and tucked himself back into his trousers, not bothering to button or zip up.

Sherlock took a couple of deep breaths before getting up from the bed, she watched him go into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a tissue and he gently wiped his seed from her thigh. He pulled the covers back and got under them with her, still in his trousers and she only in her bra now. He pulled her against him, spooning her. He kissed the back of her neck and she snuggled closer to him.

"Would a spinster get to enjoy what we've just done?" Sherlock said, grinning against her neck. Molly giggled and shook her head.

"No." she said with a smile on her lips.

"And would a spinster know what coming in my mouth feels like?" he said, slapping her gently on her naked thigh. She gasped and slapped his arm in response.

"You're so vulgar in bed." Molly said, blushing like a school girl. Sherlock chuckled. "You love it when I talk dirty. Don't pretend not to."

Molly didn't respond, he was right. She did like it.

"Stay the night. I want you here." Sherlock said, stroking her bare arm with his fingertips. Molly considered telling him no and that she should go home but then Sherlock wouldn't be there and she wouldn't be wrapped up in his arms. Molly nodded her head. She agreed to stay.

"Splendid! You stay here, I'm going to phone Lestrade's office and let him know I solved the case." Sherlock said getting up from the bed. Molly sat up. "What do you mean you solved it? We haven't been working." Molly said pulling the blanket up to her chest. Sherlock shrugged. "I solved it after your orgasm. You can take some of the credit if you like." Sherlock said, winking at her before stepping out of the bedroom.

Molly wasn't sure if she should feel complimented or insulted. Was he working while he was… doing that to me! Molly thought angrily. Did that mean he wasn't completely focused on what they were doing? They were sharing an intimate moment- _Molly _was sharing an intimate part of herself with him and he was working?

Sherlock returned and changed into a pair of pajama bottoms. Molly wanted to talk to him about the whole solving murders while he pleasured her thing but she was suddenly too tired to talk and he practically passed out the moment he wrapped her up in his arms. Molly decided it could wait until morning.

But as Molly drifted off Irene's visit came back to her. The Woman's words of warning echoed in Molly's head.

_"…he'll destroy you."_

Molly closed her eyes tightly and drifted off to sleep.

(AN: Sorry this chapter took so long to update. Hope you enjoyed the "sexy times". What do you think? Questions, comments, concerns? If anyone wants to follow me on Tumblr just search lilysregdorpenname. Thank you for reading and have sweet dreams my darling little demons!)

**l****avanyalabelle****- to answer your review, Sherlock and Irene's history will be explained soon.**


	9. Chapter Nine: The Other Woman and

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Nine

The Other Woman and a Confession

"So you have- had two brothers," Molly said as Sherlock cracked eggs into a pan. He replied with "hmm". She sat on a stool in the kitchen of 221B Baker St. wearing one of his dress shirts, it came down to her knees. Sherlock wore a white t-shirt and pajama pants. "How did you meet your wife?" Molly asked, hesitantly. Sherlock paused but then began to stir the eggs in the pan.

"We met at a party." he said simply. Molly frowned.

"I was hoping for-"

"Specifics?" Sherlock said, cutting her off. He leaned against the countertop, arms crossed. "Molly," he began. "I know you want to know more about my past and for some strange reason my marriage but when I am with you I want to be with you, not thinking about what happened in the past."

Molly was touched but a bit hurt. She tried to focus on the "touched" part. Sherlock turned his back to her again as he flipped and flopped the eggs in the pan. Molly slid off her stool and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back.

"Why don't you leave her?" Molly asked. Sherlock groaned.

"Damn it, Molly. Just leave it be." Sherlock said harshly before moving away from her and stomping down the hall to the bathroom, he slammed the door loudly behind him. Molly turned the stove off so the eggs wouldn't burn. She wished she hadn't said anything. She spoiled the moment.

Molly couldn't leave it alone though. She had become the other woman. The woman she had always told herself she would never become.

Molly wished Sherlock could understand why it was so hard for her to not bring up Irene. She wished he could understand how difficult it was being with a man she couldn't really be with completely.

Sherlock had stolen her heart and even though he expressed to her in their intimate moments his affection for her- in his own clinical sort of way- she wondered if she had captivated his heart or just his lustful urges.

After all, Irene herself had said that she wasn't Sherlock's type. Then there had definitely been other women but how many? And had Sherlock "destroyed", as Irene put it, them all? Molly wondered and worried how long she would last being the current consort to Sherlock Holmes.

X

The crime that currently occupied the mind and attention of Sherlock Holmes was yet another grizzly and brutal one. The beheading of a nun. As Sherlock went over the crime scene from top to bottom he kept finding himself looking over his shoulder, expecting Molly to be there. Molly had stayed behind; said she wasn't feeling well. Sherlock knew that to be a lie, he could always tell when she was lying but he didn't try and coax her out of the flat. He would be surprised if she was there when he returned.

Sherlock phoned John and asked him if he was free to help him with the murder.

"How's Molly?" John asked, trying to avoid looking at the beheaded nun that was now lying on a slab in the morgue. Sherlock "hmmed" a response.

"Is hmm short for good?" John asked leaning against the wall. Sherlock was examining the body closely. He didn't answer. "Mary likes her," John went on. Still no response from Sherlock. "A bit younger than what you usually go for." Sherlock stepped back from the body.

"She was beheaded after death, some kind of a statement I think. She was also sexually assaulted. Someone has a grudge against women and the church." Sherlock said taking out his notepad and scribbled something, his hands shaking slightly. John immediately took notice. "Sherlock, you okay?" John asked stepping closer to his friend. Sherlock nodded his head. "Of course I'm okay, what kind of stupid question is that? Am I okay?" Sherlock said mockingly. John didn't take his rudeness personally but he was concerned.

"Sherlock, you're doing really well. Remember that. You don't need it." John said comfortingly. Sherlock groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh, John, I know I don't need it. I want it." Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

The cab ride back to Baker St. felt like it took an eternity. John asked Sherlock if he wanted him to come up and stay with him for a bit but Sherlock declined.

When Sherlock opened the door to his flat he hoped beyond hope that Molly would be there. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sleeping in his bed under the covers, wearing a white nighty. Sherlock thought she looked the epitome of virginal innocents. He felt like Hades about to steal Persephone away to his dark underworld. Or perhaps he already was Hades and he was admiring his handiwork.

Yes, you're doing a splendid job at corrupting her, he thought bitterfly.

Sherlock removed his coat and suit jacket, took off his shoes and socks and sat down next to where Molly slept.

He stroked her bare shoulder gently. "Molly," he whispered softly. She opened her eyes slowly.

"Mr. Holmes," Molly said drowsily. She sat up and he took her hands in his and kissed her them and her fingertips. He held her hand close to his chest. "Molly… I… forgive me." he whispered. Molly gave him a puzzled look.

"There's nothing to-"

"Please. Forgive me, Molly." he pleaded urgently to her and laid his head down in her lap.

Molly didn't know what else to do so she gently stroked his hair. "I- of course I forgive you." she said sweetly.

Sherlock lifted his head. There were no tears in his eyes but there was still that same pleading that she had heard in his voice. She was shocked he was even asking for her forgiveness. "I told you before that I'm not a kind man and I'm not Molly but… maybe," he paused. Molly hoped he would say what she wanted him to say. That with her he could be a kind man, a different man. That she was changing him and the way he looked at things and people and life. But he didn't.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and looked away from her.

"Sherlock?" Molly whispered. Sherlock looked at her, his jaw unclenched, his features softening. He looked like a man tore between two worlds.

"You've never said my name before." Sherlock said, staring at her as if he'd seen her again for the first time.

"I think it's time I told you something… something I am not proud of. Something that may make you- damn it." he said. Molly took his face in her hands and kissed him. He held her tighter and kissed her back as if it was the last time he would ever get the chance to hold her or kiss.

Molly worried for him. Why is he acting this way? Molly thought. Is he going to put an end to it? To us? She wondered.

"Whatever you have to tell me it won't change how I feel about you." Molly said kindly, trying to sound reassuring. Sherlock shook his head and laughed darkly.

"Don't say that… don't say that now." Sherlock said and he gripped her arms.

"It can't be that bad." Molly said shrugging. Sherlock laughed again. He was beginning to worry her. Maybe it could be that bad-

"I killed my brother."

Molly felt her heart stop.

**AN: Sorry for the short chapter. I don't really have an excuse except that I felt that this chapter didn't need to be very long. Reviews are always welcome. Next time on Hangnail: the truth about Sherlock's other brother and Irene. Also, my other story (another Sherlolly fic) "Across the Silent Sand" will be updated soon as well. Thank you for reading and have sweet dreams my darling little demons!)**


	10. Chapter Ten: The Bronze Trio

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Ten

The Bronze Trio

"I killed my brother." Sherlock had said, calmly. His voice didn't break, it didn't falter. Molly sat there still being held by him. She understood when he said "don't say that". He didn't want her to forgive him until she had heard him out. Molly was suddenly terrified of being held by him. She pushed against his chest but he held her firmly. "No, listen to me." he said to her making her stop her movements. "You want to know about Irene and I then you have to know about him and me and all the dirty little secrets I've been trying to protect you from." Sherlock said in a stern voice. He released her though and stood up, his bare feet slapping against the wood floor in the dark, the room illuminated by the street lamps outside. He paced. He wasn't nervous he was thinking.

Molly pulled her knees up to her chest, just because he wasn't nervous didn't mean Molly wasn't. She was afraid of him. You don't just hear the man you've been intimate with admit to killing his brother and suddenly want to cuddle.

"It was eight years ago… Simon- my younger brother- and I were close. We'd always been close. We were closer in age than Mycroft who was already finished at university and moving on to having a very good career in government. Simon and I… well we knew how to get into trouble. We never had a plan of how to get out but we could make it anywhere we went," Sherlock paused and sat down on the floor sitting with his legs crossed. Molly could see him perfectly from where she sat.

"At university Simon thrived. He was brilliant, maybe even more brilliant than Mycroft and I. But it was a burden for him. He was the baby of the family, the one everyone said was going to change the world. Mycroft would protect it, I would examine it and Simon would save it. Everyone expected great things from him and that's what he hated the most. He didn't want to be the golden boy everyone expected from him. He wanted to be seen as something else… he wanted to be cool, dangerous. During our second year at university I was cramming like crazy for a test. I was exhausted. I passed- obviously- but I was drained. My decision making skills were a bit… fuzzy. I went to a party which I never did but there may have been a girl there I wanted to impress. That's when a fellow classmate offered me something," Sherlock paused, lost in the memory.

Molly shifted her little feet. "What did he offer you?" she asked him.

Sherlock sighed. "Heroin." he answered simply. Molly didn't realize tears had been forming in her eyes. They felt down her little cheeks and dropped onto the blankets staining them. She looked away.

"Once I started I couldn't stop. I kept trying to recapture that… that first feeling. But you can't, it's not the same. But you do it again and again and eventually I- I became depressed. Distant. Simon asked me what was wrong. I asked him to," Sherlock stopped abruptly. Molly looked back at him, he was holding back tears of own. Molly knew he hadn't spoken of this to probably anyone. Maybe not even his friend the doctor. Molly scooted closer. "What did you ask him?" she spoke slowly, she felt she already knew the answer. Sherlock wouldn't look at her for a while and when he did she saw a broken man. She didn't see a trace of the cold man she had first met.

"I asked him to shoot up with me so I wouldn't feel so alone. And he did, Molly. He did so many times. I helped him find the one thing that wouldn't make him the golden boy anymore. We became the worst parts of ourselves. At the same time I had been getting fucked up on heroin Simon had begun dating a woman. Irene Adler. The fool was head over heels in love with her, I didn't like her from the start. When I told you I first met Irene at a party that wasn't a lie, it was the same party I had first shot up at.

"She wasn't interested in drugs, she got her high off something else. Pain. Sexual pain. I guess the combination of the drugs and Irene slapping the living daylights out of Simon gave them both a good high. A year passed of them fucking and me and Simon shooting up. It got out of hand. Our parents didn't know, they were off traveling the world as they did after they retired. Mycroft didn't know, he was busy with work. All Simon and I had was each other-or at least I had him and he had Irene and myself. They called us the Bronze Trio, not entirely sure why. I always thought it was a stupid nickname. Maybe because we couldn't get anything better and people at university were saying we'd never amount to anything. As brilliant as we were- The Woman included- I'm embarrassed by how foolishly we acted.

One night I was at a pub, drunk and high off my ass as the story goes, I can't really remember much of the night but I remember the morning, I was escorted out of the pub by Detective Inspector Lestrade. He slapped me a few times and told me I needed to get my head out of my ass. I didn't right away. I was young and stupid and didn't feel like I had to answer to anyone for anything. But Lestrade kept hounding me, he contacted my brother and the game was over. But it was more permanently over for Simon. They couldn't find him, they questioned Irene and she didn't know where he was. His body was found in the river a week later. I sobered up, for a while. Mrs. Hudson became my nurse after I relapsed and almost died.

"When I say I killed my brother Molly I mean it. I asked him to get high with me- I guess part of me wanted to see him high for the first time so maybe I could feel like it was my first time too. Maybe through him I could get that feeling back. But all I did was destroy him. I got clean, returned to university and finished my schooling in record breaking time. Two years ago Irene showed up and threatened to expose my family's dirty secret to the press. I care about my family's honor. The Holmes name carries some weight- not only would it topple my parents but it would ruin Mycroft and the reputation I've built. She needed help out of a jam and in exchange for my marrying her she would keep our terrible secret. She said I owed it to her for taking away the love of her life. That's my story, Molly. Do you still feel the same way about me?" Sherlock asked.

Molly didn't know what to say. She was torn between wanting to hold him and kiss him and smacking him and shouting at him. Sherlock had torn his family apart. He had been a drug addict and had been responsible for his brother becoming an addict. Irene's cold personality suddenly made sense to Molly. The Woman was heart broken. Plain and simple. Molly had thought Irene was cruel by nature but she was cruel because of Sherlock. Irene probably didn't want to be married to Sherlock anymore than Sherlock wanted to be married to her. Theirs was a marriage of hateful inconvenience.

"Is that why you… you keep me at a distance? Because you don't like talking about your past?" Molly asked. Sherlock nodded his head and stood up. "There are other reasons too." he said quietly. He walked over to the bed and sat down where he been minutes before.

"Do you still want me?" Sherlock asked. Molly honestly didn't know. She did but she didn't. She knew she couldn't judge him based on the actions of his past, he was young and did something foolish, but when Molly thought of young people doing foolish things being the reason your brother died wasn't one of them! Yes, he had to live with it, and maybe that was punishment enough but Molly couldn't even look at him the same way. He seemed different to her now.

"Sherlock… how could you do that to your brother?" she asked him. Sherlock sighed.

"I wasn't me, Molly. I was high and wasn't thinking right." Sherlock said.

Molly shook her head. "And this," she said pointing at him. "Might not be you either. This is what you've become as a result of being a complete-" she stopped herself. She needed to calm down. She was finally getting angry with him and showing it. "Sherlock," she began over again. "I still care about you but… how I see you, that's changed. You're capable of so many wonderful things but now I know more than ever before what Irene meant when she said you'd destroy me." Molly said, a little more harshly than she wanted to.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he stood up from the bed.

"I see." he said simply. "Well then… I guess there's no reason for you to stay you've clearly made up your mind." Sherlock said as he began to storm out of the bedroom. Molly threw the covers off of her and followed him to the living. She grabbed his hand.

"I don't want to leave Sherlock," she said urgently. "I just need time to think about all of this."

Sherlock shook her hand off of him.

"I think I already know your answer."

"Then you're still as foolish as you were all those years ago!" Molly said shouting at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he said menacingly. "I was foolish to ever want a silly girl like you."

"Don't do that. You just told me why you are the way you are and now you're pushing me away. You can't expect me to just go, oh Sherlock was a drug addict and his brother died and the trauma of such an event turned him into the man he is today, and not be upset by that. That's not how I am Sherlock." Moly said.

Sherlock turned his back to her.

"I expected too much from you."

"And apparently you think very little of me." Molly snapped at him.

Sherlock whipped around and suddenly grabbed her by her upper arms and yanked her towards him.

"_You _are all I think about! Since I met you a day hasn't gone by where I didn't wish to look at you a bit longer, hold you a little tighter and kiss you a little better. Every damn day I spend with you I get further away from my past. Except tonight, when I felt the desire to stick a needle in my arm. I didn't Molly. I came home, hoping to a god I don't even believe in, that you would be here. I looked at you while you slept I knew you deserved to know the truth about me. You, Molly Hooper, are the reason I haven't begun shooting up again. Two days after I met you I found myself walking to an old dealer of mine and I stopped myself. That's how quickly you slipped into my mind. Molly… I can't do anything right without you." his voice had become softer now, slower.

Sherlock wasn't gripping her as tight, instead he was gently cradling her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Will you please just give me time to think about all of this? I'm not saying I don't want to be with you, Sherlock. I just need to think." Molly said. Sherlock nodded is head. "Why do I still feel like you're going to leave me?" he asked her looking into her eyes this time. Molly sighed. She wasn't sure what she needed to think about. Her head was telling her to run and never look back that this was a bad idea. But her heart ached to be closer to him than she already was.

"You need to sleep." Molly said taking him by the hand. They lay together wrapped in each other's arms. His head resting on her chest. She stroked his soft hair as she lay awake.

Molly had no idea what she was going to do. Could she stay with him? Molly wasn't sure if she was strong enough for this. She had already been through so much watching her father die. If Sherlock relapsed again she wasn't sure she could bare to lose him too or watch him destroy himself. Or watch him destroy her.

Molly fell asleep and had surprisingly pleasant dreams and a good night's rest despite the previous night. When she awoke she was pressed firmly against Sherlock's chest his arms around her. She assumed he was still asleep but he wasn't. He pressed a long kiss to the back of her neck. Molly shivered in delight. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, his hand coming up and moving the strap down. Molly knew they needed to talk about last night but with his continued affections towards her person she couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Mr. Holmes," Molly whispered turning over. Sherlock sighed. "Back to Mr. Holmes again?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"I think there's a secret part of you that likes it when I call you that, especially when I do this." Molly said and she kissed a spot on his neck that she knew was his undoing. He groaned softly and pulled her on top of him, she straddled him and pressed her mouth to his.

Yes, they could talk later. Truthfully as much as Molly wanted to talk about it she also didn't. She wanted to pretend it never happened, maybe she could? Maybe she could go back to pretending he was still just a arrogant man with a soft spot for her.

Sherlock placed his hands on her hips and moved her against his growing erection. She bit her lip and moaned softly. He rolled her over, spreading her legs and reached under her nighty and yanked down her underwear. Molly whimpered as his talented long fingers found their way to her already wet center. He slid one finger and then two inside of her when she was ready. "Oh, yes…" Molly cried, his thumb finding her swollen clit.

"Yes, you like that don't you?" Sherlock whispered darkly. Molly clutched his clothed body to hers. "Will you come for me, Molly?" he asked her knowing she couldn't answer in the state she was in. She held him tighter.

For some reason though Molly had a thought in her moment of immense pleasure. She reached down and grasped him firmly in her hand. Sherlock groaned and for a moment she thought he might try and stop her but he didn't. He thrust eagerly into her hand. "Molly… I want you." Sherlock said, his voice thick with lust.

"Not yet," Molly said and he clenched his eyes closed. "I need to be closer." he said, pausing his fingers, Molly sighed in disappointment. Sherlock moved her hand away and reached down to undo his trousers. Once they were out of the way he rolled onto his back again and put Molly atop him. He took out his impressive manhood and told Molly to move against him. She was apprehensive at first. "I'm not going to fuck you, just come here." he said urgently.

Molly pressed her womanhood against him and he groaned when her wetness came in contact with his hard cock. He sat up, holding her close to his chest.

"God I want to fuck you," he whispered before kissing her hard on the lips. Molly grasped his shoulders as he thrust his cock against her aching center, his tip brushing against her clit. "Sir… I-I want to but," her eyes rolled back when his thumb for her nub again. "You need it too, Molly," Sherlock whispered seductively. She closed her eyes tighter. She wanted to but could she really let him claim that part of her? Wasn't it too soon? He was married! But he's unhappy, they don't love each other, Molly thought trying to rationalize the situation.

Molly needed to feel more of him, not just his erection. She reached down and with shaking hands unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his pale skin to the morning sun. His torso muscular and broad. He shrugged out of it and grasped her around the waist as he moved her slowly against him. He buried his face in her small breasts, licking and nipping her stiff nipples. Sherlock took one of her hands in his and wrapped it around his cock once more, after a minute she got the hang of it and began to stroke him gently on her own.

"Fuck- Molly." Sherlock moaned deeply. "I want to feel you around me, I… I want to watch you while I make you come with my cock in your sweet tight cunt." he said as he thrust harder into her hand. His words, however a turn on, also scared her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could deny him. She wanted to have inside her, to know what it truly meant to be with a man but she was afraid that maybe he would leave her when he was finished. She didn't know how long she would last being his new other woman, she had still yet to ask him how many other women he had had.

Sherlock stroked her clit faster and she cried out and bit his shoulder without realizing it. She stroked his cock faster as she approached her orgasm. He suddenly rolled her onto her back and froze. Molly gasped. He was staring at her like he was a man possessed. He took himself into his hand, her legs spread wide open with his body, and began to stroke his cock up and down her wet slit. Molly shook her head. "No… Sherlock, not yet." she said pleadingly and pushing weakly against his chest. Sherlock didn't seem to be listening to her.

"I could take you right now. Look at you, so helpless. You want me to even if a part of you doesn't. I could fuck you into his mattress and all of Baker St. would hear it. I could do anything I want to you, Molly." Sherlock said, but he still didn't look at her. Molly breathed a sigh of relief when his head disappeared between her legs and he began lapping at her wetness. She cried out loudly as she came. When she had recovered she grasped his still stiff erection in her hand and stroked him harder and faster. He groaned loudly as he came in her hand.

Afterwards while Molly showered she thought over what Sherlock had said to her in bed. Would he have taken her against her will? She could see his resolve was crumbling more and more each time they were intimate with one another. She felt guilty but it wasn't because he was married. She let him close to her again and let him touch her and now she feared he believed she had forgiven his past. She felt that she had deceived him. She should not have let him touch her like that after he had confessed to doing such a terrible thing.

Even though he had shared a dark secret of his past now more than ever Molly Hooper had no idea who Sherlock Holmes really was. She only knew who she wanted him to be.

**AN: Thank you for reading once again and thank you for all of the kind and wonderful reviews. I know Molly might seem more indecisive in this chapter but that's what happens in real life; we don't always get the answers we want or make the right decisions in the moment and we ponder them and feel guilty later. I hope you all continue reading and staying entertained. Have a lovely Monday my sweet little darling demons!)**


	11. Chapter Eleven: No One Gets Out Unscathe

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

**Warning: For slight non-con (sorry)**

Chapter Eleven

No One Gets Out Unscathed

Molly had decided she could no longer go on pretending that she had completely forgiven Sherlock's past. He had done terrible things to the people who cared for him. He was a constant risk. Any moment he could fall off the already unsteady wagon and go back to abusing drugs, ruining himself and the people around him.

Molly felt she understood Irene Adler better, she understood her cruelty. Molly didn't want to become anything like Irene. She knew she had to talk to Sherlock about her fears. Every time he went out without her she worried that he'd be enticed by someone to shoot up. Molly didn't know if she was strong enough for this- if she was even old enough for this.

Sherlock hadn't been taking her on as many cases which worried her, so what was he paying her for? Molly didn't want to admit it but him paying her for not even doing her job made her feel like a whore.

Molly sat at the kitchen table of 221B Baker St. waiting for Sherlock to return home from another one of Irene's ghastly parties. She sipped her tea nervously. I can do this, I can do this, Molly repeated over and over again inside her head. She had been so nervous that she had cleaned the entire flat, making sure to put his pile of messy stacks of papers back in the same order. He liked his organized mess.

When Molly heard the downstairs door open and close she held her breath. It was raining outside and she heard Sherlock brushing off his coat and setting the umbrella into the umbrella stand by the door. She stood up and her hands shook nervously. She heard his footsteps coming up the stairs heavily. He opened the door and smiled at her. She smiled back, sadly though.

"I could get used to this," Sherlock said as he removed his leather gloves and tossed them on the table, referring to Molly being there waiting for him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her gently. Molly sniffled. Sherlock pulled away. "You've been crying, there's a small blood vessel under your that's burst- Molly, what's happened?" Sherlock asked seriously. Molly gazed up at him. His hair was wet from the rain, there were wet stains on his white shirt and his tie was askew, he looked so handsome. Molly rightened his tie.

"We need to talk." Molly said. Sherlock stepped back quickly removing his hands from her. Molly began pacing the kitchen.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you told me and I- I don't know if I can completely forgive you, Sherlock. You've done terrible things and while I appreciate that you confided in me there is this other side of you that I'm not sure I am prepared to- or want to- know. I have a great attachment towards you, I have never-"

Sherlock suddenly raised his hand. She stopped speaking immediately. Molly could see his eyes, they wouldn't meet her gaze. They scanned around the room looking at anything but her. It reminded her something he once said the first time they met-

"I've heard enough." Sherlock said calmly. Molly shook her head. He held up his hand again when she tried to speak. "No. I know what you're going to say- I know everything remember? Yes… yes, you're far too young for this. Far too young for anything actually. Stupid of me to think you would be able to cope with such news. I understand. Completely. It was good to make your acquaintance Miss. Hooper." Sherlock said holding out his hand for her to shake.

Molly gaped at him and she lost it. She walked up to him and slapped him across the jaw.

"_Acquaintance_? You dare reduce what we shared down to that? You miserable selfish man, how dare you?" Molly hissed at him. Sherlock scoffed. "That's all it was, wasn't it?" Sherlock said, tilting his head to the side. Molly wanted to slap him again, he had a look on his face like he dared her to.

"You pitiful son of a bitch," Molly spat. Sherlock rolled his eyes and began walking to his bedroom removing his suit jacket as he went. "I'm not done yelling at you!" Molly screamed as she followed him. "Get it over with then, please!" Sherlock shouted back.

"I shared a part of myself with you. Did you call the others your acquaintances too? Was I just another notch?" Molly demanded. Sherlock sat on the edge of his bed and began untying his shoes. "You're leaving me but you're the one whose angry, this doesn't seem right." Sherlock said in a know it all kind of voice.

"It's how you're handling this that is making me angry you stupid sod!" Molly shouted, louder this time. Sherlock stood up.

"You will lower your voice." Sherlock ordered. Molly shrugged. "Or what?" Molly challenged. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. "You won't like it." Sherlock threatened. Molly decided she would lower her voice. She turned her back to him.

"I can't do this Sherlock. I thought I could but I'm… I'm not cut out for this. You're obviously fine with my leaving so I'll-"

Molly was cut off once more when she felt Sherlock's arms wrap around her waist and pulled her against him. She gasped and tried to move away but he held her tightly. "No… no, Sherlock! You can't do that every time-" he pressed his mouth to hers, turning her head to the side. Molly began kissing him back but after coming to her senses pulled away. "No." she whispered quietly. He maneuvered them towards the bed. "Sherlock, please," she moaned as she pulled him closer. She knew she had to stop him but it was getting harder and harder. There was a clap of thunder and Molly cried out in surprise.

Sherlock reached down and in her distracted state didn't realize he had pulled up the skirt of her dress. Molly looked up into his eyes as he kissed her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She clutched him tighter against her. She could feel him between her legs, hard and hot. "We can't. Please, Sherlock." she begged but he didn't hear her. He didn't even need to hold her down, she pulled him ever closer towards her.

"Stop talking, Molly." Sherlock whispered as he kissed her neck, he ran his hand over her clothed breast. She closed her eyes. How could this man do such evil things to her? Why was she letting him?

Have you completely lost your mind? She shouted in her head.

She felt Sherlock's hand between her legs, stroking her wet slit. Molly keened in delight. Sherlock pulled back for a moment and looked into her eyes, she saw a flash of lightening behind himm through the windows. "Do you want me?" he whispered, his voice deep and raspy. Molly nodded her head. He reached beneath her and yanked off her underwear in one swift movement. He pushed her further up the bed until her head was laying comfortably on the pillows. He continued to stroke her between her legs while pressing his cock against her thigh.

Molly reached down between them and began unbuttoning his trousers, he groaned when her soft fingers came into contact with his aching cock. He brought himself closer to her running his tip along her opening. Molly clenched her thighs around his waist, bringing him closer. "I hate you." Molly whispered suddenly into his ear, but he didn't stop his movements. He reached down to align himself with her opening. "I hate you, I hate you," she chanted. Sherlock kissed her hard on the mouth and she felt him press into her. She clutched his hard back as he drove into her cunt.

"I know." he murmured hoarsely against her lips, she bit the inside of her cheek as she felt his cock fill her completely. It hurt. It burned, it pinched her. "Ah.." she whined, tears peaking out from behind her closed eyes.

Sherlock pulled out only to thrust back into her. She slid her hands down to his waist holding him to her one moment and pushing against him another. "Oh god." he moaned into her neck. Molly cupped his face in her hands brought his mouth back to hers. His lips muffled the grunts of pain she let out.

Molly heard the clock ticking on the wall, the mattress creaking as he thrust into her, the slapping of flesh on flesh between their legs. She felt the back of her knees sweat, she felt the sweat drip down from her chin to crevice against her throat near her collarbone. He leaned down and kissed the spot under her chin then her chin itself then her lips.

"You're burning up." he whispered as he reached up to feel her cheeks. Molly gasped when she felt him slowly retreat from her body. He reached down and began unbuttoning the blouse of her dress; Molly noted how his cock stood stiff and proud, coated in a dark wetness against his trousers. He pulled her dress down to her waist and removed her bra. He leaned down and took a stiff nipple into his wet mouth, Molly moaned loudly. He reached between them to her sore center and stroked her gently, circling her clit with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he kissed the spot over her heart. Molly wasn't sure if he was apologizing for the pain he was causing her or for something else.

Molly's back arched when she felt him enter her a second time, it was not as unpleasant as the first time but there was still an aching pain. She felt too little for him, she was so small and he so big. He moved slower this time, he raised one of her legs to wrap around his waist.

"Molly… I-" he said quietly against her lips, he wouldn't break eye contact with her. Molly was briefly reminded of the first time they met…

_"You have a voice, use it…" _his cruel words echoed through her head as she felt him begin to thrust a little faster. The pain wasn't as bad now but she only felt the spark of pleasure every now and then. A part of her hoped he'd finish soon but another didn't want him to leave her body.

_"The inability to make eye contact with another person means you have high anxiety, low self esteem or you're just busy thinking and are not in the present." _She remembered his words like they were yesterday.

So Molly kept his eye contact as he thrust harder into her. She held him closer and closer until she could barely breathe. He reached down between them and began to stroke her clit. She knew he wanted to make her orgasm but she wasn't sure she could. It was still too uncomfortable but his stroking did feel good. He stopped abruptly and he thrust a few more times into her before she heard him grunt loudly and he stopped moving.

After a moment or two Sherlock removed himself from her and rolled onto his back pulling Molly to him.

"You can't leave me, Molly." Sherlock said as he held her. "We need each other." he said before he drifted off.

Molly didn't sleep. She couldn't. She got up from the bed and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was disheveled, her lips and eyes swollen. Molly knew she must have been in shock. She reached between her legs and felt the obvious wetness when she pulled her hand back and saw the blood. She tore open the toilet and began to dry heave. Her intestines had nothing to deposit except a bit of water. Molly clutched her stomach. She closed the bathroom door and locked it. She got into the shower and sat down and let the water wash over her.

Molly didn't exactly regret sleeping with Sherlock but she wished it had been on a night where she hadn't planned on leaving him. Sherlock always did that when she wanted to talk about something serious he would distract her with his kisses and body. But now, when she needed to talk to him about the most important thing she could possibly think of in regards to their relationship, he convinces her to sleep with him. She didn't need much convincing.

In Molly's head she knew she wanted Sherlock to be her first man and if her own fantasy her only man and if she left him that would have never happened so she used Sherlock as much as he used her. Molly wouldn't be staying the night. They had both, in a way, gotten what they wanted. He finally fucked her and she had gotten him out of her system. Simple. Easy.

Molly quietly packed her few belongings and took one last look at Sherlock sleeping on his back peacefully before she exited 221B Baker St. It was still raining, she hailed a taxi and made her way home.

X

Sherlock heard her leave, he sat up in bed. His hand touched a wet spot on his bed and in the faint light of the bedroom the full weight of his actions finally caught up with him. He stroked the blood over his fingertips and felt an enormous weight come crashing down onto his chest.

"My god, what have I done?" Sherlock said, completely shocked by his own actions. He stripped his bed and began tearing up the fabric before throwing it all away. Sherlock couldn't look at himself. He felt completely disgusted with himself. He felt like an animal. Sherlock had hurt _his_ sweet, sweet Molly. He had completely driven her away now.

There was no chance of Sherlock Holmes ever making this right.

**AN: DUN DUN DUN! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it wasn't easy to write. I bet you're wondering how these two are going to be after something like this, right? You're just going to have to wait and read. Thank you for all of the reviews, I appreciate every single one of them. I understand I'll probably get some "flack" for this chapter. But at the same time I hope this seems true to the my spin on these already established characters.**


	12. Chapter Twelve: Three Months Gone

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Twelve

Three Months Gone

_Drip, drip, drip…_

Molly listened to the sound of small droplets of water hitting the surface of tub. Her whole body except for her head was completely submerged.

X

Sherlock lay on his leather couch at the house he shared with Irene Adler, he hadn't been able to return to Baker St. yet. He heard the door open letting in a bit of sunlight in the dark room. He turned his face away. "Bit dark in here." John commented stepping in. Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette, the tobacco at the end making a soft popping sound as the paper burned slowly.

X

_Knock, knock, knock…_

Molly didn't get many visitors, who could it be? In her bathrobe and slippers, not caring who saw her, she answered the door. Mary Watson. She had her baby Hannah under one arm and itty bitty new baby Delilah in the stroller. "Girl's day?" Mary said kindly. Molly nodded her head and let the woman in, closing the door quietly behind her.

X

"Haven't heard from you in a while. Makes me nervous when you don't show up for your appointments." John said, pulling up a chair near the couch. He noted the ashtray filled with cigarette butts laying on Sherlock's chest, beside the couch was an even fuller ashtray. There was a heavy cloud of smoke hanging over their heads. "I'll open a window, shall I?" John suggested.

X

Mary made a pot of tea. Delilah played on the carpet in the living room. Molly watched the baby completely fascinated. Mary noticed her friend's puffy eyes and the dark circles. "Have you found a new job?" Mary asked. Molly shook her head.

"He's keeps sending me money…" Molly said staring off into empty space. Mary took Molly's hand and gave it a comforting squeezed, Molly squeezed even harder.

X

"Sherlock, you need a case." John said to Sherlock who only grunted a response. "A man came to see me looking for you. He says he's being stalked by a strange woman-"

"Woman is actually a man, he's being stalked by a former professor who was obsessed with him. I got the letter." Sherlock said dismissively. John sighed. He leaned back in his chair removing his gloves. "You can't go on like this, Sherlock. You need a case."

"The only thing I need I drove away." Sherlock spat, he sat up sending the ashtray to the floor.

"Oh for gods sake!" John shouted as he stepped back from the ashy mess. Sherlock walked through the old cigarette butts in bare feet, he went to the window and glanced out. The bright sun hurt his eyes which had grown accustomed to the darkness.

"When did you last shower?" John asked finally noting the smell. Sherlock shrugged. "What does it matter?" Sherlock said depressingly.

"Look, Sherlock, I'm going to play mummy right now, so I order you to go and shower and then I'm buying you lunch." John said sticking his finger at Sherlock.

The Consulting Detective opened his mouth to protest but John shut him up.

"So help me god, Sherlock, if you try and deduce me right now you'll wish you hadn't. Shower. NOW!" John ordered.

Sherlock went upstairs muttering like a child to shower while John cleaned up his office.

X

"It's all so silly, isn't it?" Molly mumbled, her face in Mary's lap as her friend braided her hair like they were school girls. "What is?" Mary asked softly. Molly yawned.

"Love. How can we love men who make us hate them so much?" Molly asked. Mary sighed. "I think it's because a part of us thinks we can change them." Mary answered simply. Molly sighed. "There's no changing him." Molly said sadly.

In the last three months Molly Hooper had sunk into a depression. She missed Mr. Holmes every day and every day something reminded her of him. She wanted to burn away all the memories. Every tissue she used and threw into the trashcan was another memory she wanted to erase.

"When does it stop, Mary? Why can't I unlove him?" Molly asked, she didn't expect Mary to have an answer. She just needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to her. "You will, one day, love. One day you'll wake up and he won't be the first thing on your mind and when you go to bed he won't be the last. But it won't be tomorrow or the day after or the day after. But one day. I promise." Mary said, stroking Molly's tear ridden cheek. Molly nodded her head and blew her nose.

X

Sherlock ate like a wild animal, like he hadn't eaten in days. Probably hasn't, John thought as Sherlock wolfed down his food.

"Feeling better?" John asked as Sherlock took a large gulp of water, the detective nodded his head. Sherlock reclined back in his chair and cracked his neck. "Do you have to do that at the table?" John said as he got a chill from hearing Sherlock's bones pop.

"Yes." Sherlock said before pulling out a cigarette. John ordered them more wine.

"Would you call me stupid if I asked how you were?" John asked, Sherlock shot him a glare. "Okay, don't answer that. Have you talked to her?" John said. Sherlock shook his head and tapped his ash into the glass tray. "And say what, exactly, John? Dear Molly Hooper, so sorry I all but forced myself onto your person I miss you please come and clean my flat and help me solve crimes again, sincerely Sherlock Asshole of the Century Holmes." Sherlock said dramatically. John groaned.

"You should still try and talk to her." John said. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"John, she doesn't want to talk to me. I may not know as much about women as you do but when a woman leaves you in the middle of the night with no note then she probably wants nothing to do with you." Sherlock said bitterly. He tapped his cigarette onto the ashtray so hard the table shuddered. "You've been taking less patients," Sherlock pointed, exhaling quickly. John sighed, he leaned back and crossed his arms. "Fine, if it makes you feel any better go ahead." John said.

"You lost the baby weight. Delilah is feistier than Hannah and she's been keeping you up late… but it's Mary who's making you get up with Delilah. You read the paper twice this morning, there's double smudging of ink on both of your cuffs. Possibly looking for a bit of gossip about me? You're eating smaller portions today so you're still self conscious about your weight even though you've lost it… damn it, it's not the same." Sherlock muttered. John was actually surprised. Sherlock had actually stopped mid-deduction because something wasn't the same?

"Sherlock, there's something bothering you and as your best friend I want you to try the best way you can to tell me about it." John said.

Sherlock sighed.

How was he supposed to put into words what was bothering him? What he was… feeling? Sherlock took a few more drags off his cigarette.

"Ever have a hangnail, John?" Sherlock asked, John groaned thinking Sherlock was trying to avoid talking about his feelings.

"Listen," Sherlock said intently taking another drag exhaling as he spoke. "A hangnail is a constant annoyance. Leave it and it catches on clothing causing pain but remove it and it's sore and feels even worse. That's how I feel about Molly Hooper. She is this constant presence that I feel compelled to keep for fear of the pain that will follow if I remove her from my life; and yet keeping her, though it has caused me some… joy- I suppose that's the word- has also caused me great pain. I do not love her, John. I do not think I am capable of loving another person- not the way you and Mary love each other and not the way I suspect she loves me. But perhaps the feeling I have for Molly might be something akin to… well, you know… _that _word." Sherlock said, he downed the rest of his wine.

Sherlock glanced at John.

John had never heard Sherlock speak of anyone- any woman- like that before. That was as about as romantic as John had ever heard Sherlock be.

"Are you going to tell her how you feel?" John asked. Sherlock put his cigarette out.

"It might be too late. Too much time has gone by. She's probably moved on from the stuffy old man who tormented her and treated like she didn't count. Quite frankly I hope she has moved on."

"No you don't."

"Shut up.'"

X

"In time it will get better. When I was at University I thought I was madly in love with this man named Jack. God he was gorgeous! I had our whole future planned and then one day poof! It was over. I cried for months and months hoping that every time I cried I'd get rid of how I felt about him. It didn't work. It doesn't just go away. There's no handbook, there's no manual that tells you how to grieve. Everyone is different that way. And then after months of reading sad poetry and seeing him get engaged I thought, it's my turn, ya know? I deserve a happy ending and I kept looking for it and looking for it and I couldn't find it. I'd get a little closer then it would disappear," Mary paused to sip her tea.

Delilah was asleep in her stroller and Hannah was asleep between the two women on the sofa.

"What did you do?" Molly asked, hoping this story would have a happy ending.

Mary smiled and looked at her wedding ring.

"I stopped looking. And the second I did I pushed an entire cart of used bed pans into Dr. John Watson who was just coming off a sixteen hour shift. I was absolutely mortified. I've never seen a man act like such a gentleman covered in shi- well, ya know. And the next day I asked him if I could buy him a coffee as an apology and he said that he didn't think a coffee was going to cover it. So, we had dinner and… now I have these beautiful little girls." Mary said looking at her children.

Molly smiled, the look of love and adoration on Mary's face as she looked at her children was inspiring. Molly wished she could capture the moment forever. Mary took Molly's hand in hers. "It'll be okay, Molly. You'll meet someone who will be able to love you one day."

After another cup of tea and a few funny stories to take Molly's mind off of things Mary sadly had to go and get the girls their dinner. Molly was sad to see her friend go but understood.

X

Mary stood in the kitchen cutting cucumbers when John entered. He walked up behind her and kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I am so incredibly lucky to have you." John whispered into her ear. Mary smiled and turned her face to kiss him.

"I couldn't agree more." Mary said and John lightly tapped Mary on the backside, she shot him a warning glare but he only laughed.

"Did you see Sherlock today?" Mary asked taking a sip of her wine. John nodded his head and began pouring himself a glass.

"Poor bugger, never seen him this torn up over a dame." John said and he removed his jacket. Mary rolled her eyes.

"Well it's not easy for Molly either. She's completely given up on men." Mary said as she put the cucumbers in the salad and began cutting a pepper.

"Yeah, well, leave it to Sherlock Holmes to turn a woman off men." John said chuckling and taking a drink.

"What did you tell her?" John asked. Mary sighed. "To move on, in the kindest way I could."

John coughed on the liquid in his throat and he went to the sink to spit out what remained in his mouth. Mary went to his side, knife in hand. "You alright?" she asked him, concerned.

John cleared his throat, Mary's eyes narrowed. He wouldn't look at her. "John Hamish Watson what did you tell Sherlock?" Mary demanded, John didn't like the way she was holding the knife and when she saw his full name he knew he was really in trouble.

"Darling, love of my life, please put down the knife." John said putting his hands up defensively. Mary rolled her eyes and put the knife down crossing her arms over her chest.

"I might have told him-"

"-yes?"

"To talk to her?"

There was a pause. Mary took a deep breath, she wanted to bash him over the head with the baguette.

"John!" she groaned sitting down on a the kitchen stool. John stood beside her.

"I'm sorry, darling, but… he basically told me he loves her. Sherlock Holmes and love aren't even in the same universe!" John said, he was trying his best to make a case for his friend.

"But John he's not good for her. You should see her. She's barely left the house. And here you go trying to be the knight in shining armor for other peoples love life. You know I love Sherlock but-"

"But what, Mary?" Sherlock said stepping into the kitchen. He was holding Hannah in his arms and she played with his scarf.

"Your child was eating dust. I suggest you fire your nanny who is currently passed out with a romance novel on her chest." Sherlock said as he gave Hannah to Mary.

Mary glared at John, she was doing that a lot tonight.

"Did I mention he'd be joining us?" John said, nervously scratching the back of his head.

"I understand your concerns, Mary," Sherlock began. "I haven't agreed to contact her. I expressed to John I wish for her to move on and be happy but I find myself unable to ignore the feelings I do have for her." he explained.

Mary looked to John and then to Sherlock. She took Sherlock's hand in hers, his hand was cold.

"Sherlock, be gentle with her. She's fragile." Mary said kindly. Sherlock simply nodded his head.

Sherlock then proceeded to watch little Hannah as John and Mary finished making dinner. He bounced his goddaughter on his knee while his mind was somewhere else- on someone else. Molly Hooper.

**AN: Another chapter done. I hope you enjoyed it! Did you like having more John and Mary? I enjoyed writing their dialog, personally. Hope you're all having a good week. Thanks for all the kind words and reviews, I appreciate them all! Until next time, my darling little demons 3 **


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Woman Who Counted

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Thirteen

The Woman Who Counted

_"Dear Miss. Hooper-"_

Sherlock scratched the black lettering away with his pen. He crumbled the thin paper up and tossed it behind him. Lying on the floor was the aftermath of two hours of "Dear Molly", "Dear Molly Hooper", "Dearest Molly", "Dearest Molly Hooper" and so on. Sherlock never got past her name. He tapped his pen loudly against the paper and cracked his knuckles. "You can do this," Sherlock muttered out loud as he lit up a cigarette. He sat at his kitchen table at 221B Baker St. He'd finally found the motivation to return to the scene of his own crime, the crime being his horrid treatment of Molly Hooper.

"Yoo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson said merrily as she entered the flat carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Sherlock groaned and puffed out the smoke angrily.

"How's the writing going?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she poured him his tea. Sherlock muttered something but she didn't hear. "I remember when my late husband would send me love letters. Such a good writer." Mrs. Hudson said pleasantly. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Is that why he a blew a man's head off?" Sherlock asked rudely. Mrs. Hudson pretended not to hear him.

"Oh he really was though! Such a poet. He knew how to put things into words that I never could. Too bad I burned all of them, could've used them for inspiration." Mrs. Hudson said smiling sweetly, tapping Sherlock on the shoulder in a motherly way.

"I'll be going out for a bit." Mrs. Hudson said as she left the flat but Sherlock didn't pay her any mind. Sherlock stood up from the table and went to his violin. Yes, a little playing would clear his head. He began composing. He played for hours and hours, he didn't realize the sun had gone down. He scribbled furiously across the music paper.

As Sherlock finished his piece he felt proud of himself. He has successfully composed a new piece of music in a few short hours. He felt like giving himself a pat on the back when he looked at the kitchen table and the blank pieces of paper laying across it and the scattered remains of the fallen first, second, third, forth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth drafts of his letter to Molly Hooper.

"Who knew telling people how you feel about them would be so hard? They're just words. Simple words. I'm saying words right now!" Sherlock said to himself, he was terribly frustrated. He stood and determined himself to finish writing the letter.

_"Dear Molly,_

_I behaved like an idiot, worse than an idiot. I treated you unfairly, terribly. I took advantage of the trust you placed in me. I am not stupid, I will not ask for your forgiveness because I know you're smart enough not to accept it. I have spent the last three months in agony, not that I expect you to feel pity for me. Partly because of how I treated you that night but also because of the emptiness I feel without your constant presence. Every shadow, every movement from the corner of my eye I look for you. I search for you even in my dreams. I scan the crowds of busy streets in hopes of seeing your face for a moment. A moment that would stay with me for the rest of my life. I told you once that I am not a kind man, I was not lying. Irene told you once that I would destroy you and I feel that I have. _

_"I shared parts of my past with you and instead of understanding why you saw me differently I became defensive and lashed out. No amount of letters, gifts or money could take back the hurt that I have caused you. But know this, Molly Hooper, no woman has ever made me feel as intelligent, worthy, safe, worm and loved as you made, and continue to make, me feel. And though I will always search for your face until my last days I will stay away if that is what you wish. I made a vow to you once that I would not give you romantic gestures or sweep you off your feet and I won't but I swear that I only wish you to be happy. To live in peace and in wealth of the mind, body and soul. If I could return the light that I first saw in your eyes then I would. If I could move the heavens and the earth so that every day you awake with a beautiful sunrise and go to rest with a beautiful sunset I would. If I could align the stars so that every night they shined just the way you wanted them to I would. _

_"I miss your smile. Your heart. Your kindness. I miss your laughter. I miss your hands, your dainty feet, your hair, your smell. I wish nothing but happiness for you but even as I write that I want you to be happy I feel the stab of jealously rip through my very being- that I could not, with all of my brilliance, make you happy and that someone else will. That I, the great Sherlock Holmes, could not make you smile one last time. Instead of smiles I gave you tears. Instead of a happy ending I gave you an apocalypse. Instead of roses I gave you dirty ashtrays. Instead of warmth I gave you cold hostility. Instead of love I gave you hurt. _

_"I will take my guilt till my last breath. I will never stop wanting to undo the past. Please know, Molly Hooper, that through all of my faults and through all the pain I caused you, you made me-"_

Sherlock had to pause. His hand were shaking. His penmanship was getting scattered across the unlined paper. He took a deep breath.

_"-You made me want to give you all the things I could not. You saved me at a time when I didn't want to be saved. You saved me before I hit the pavement. Before I crashed you pulled me back. I needed you and I didn't even know it. You saved me and even with your absence you will continue to save me from falling. You do count Molly, you've always counted and I will always trust you. You gave a dying man a reason to live. And though I cannot bring myself to even write the words you deserve to hear and read please know that in my own way I feel them. I feel them in my bones and in my mind and in my darkest hours I will always remind myself that there is a woman in a little house, on a quiet street, sipping her tear, curled up on her sofa reading the newspaper and talking to herself that that loves me. _

_Thank you, Molly Hooper. The Woman Who Counted will always count. _

_Sincerely, Sherlock Holmes."_

Sherlock hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He felt something warm travel down his cheek. He wiped it away and took a large gulp of air into his lungs when he stared at the clear liquid.

"Sentiment." Sherlock grumbled as he placed the letter inside an envelope and wrote "To the Woman Who Counted" then placed that envelope inside of another envelope and addressed it to her properly. Sherlock placed it in the mailbox and went to bed.

X

Molly read the letter ten times. The first time she was in shock. The second she cried and by the tenth she was curled up in her bed with her cup of tea and a box of tissues. She thought about calling Mary but she would wait until the morning. Tonight she wanted to spend the evening with Mr. Holmes in the only way she could. She smelled the paper, it smelled like tobacco and cigarette smoke and dark ink. Like him. She held it close to her chest.

"Damn that man." she whimpered as she wept. After a few more tears Molly thought that perhaps she should write him back.

"No! No! Not after everything, not after all this time." Molly said to herself. She began to pace. "I won't do it," she said strongly even with tears in her eyes. "Even if the letter was so… oh damn him damn him!" Molly said loudly, she even stomped her foot.

"Oh, I'm Sherlock bloody Holmes! I can just make you fall in love with me but oh no I can't say the words out loud and oh I can't write them on paper while writing you a beautiful letter- please feel sorry for me! Oh, Molly Hooper, you're the woman who counted but sod everything else! Fuck!" Molly shouted so loudly she heard a dog bark outside.

"Okay, calm down Hooper." Molly said flopping down onto her bed holding the letter closely to her chest.

X

Molly watched Mary intently, letting her tea go cold, as her friend read Mr. Holmes' letter.

Mary folded the letter neatly back into place. Molly could see the tears forming in the corner's of her eyes.

"That was… well, that was very good, wasn't it?" Mary said taking a sip of her tea. She held back her tears as she took a deep breath. Molly sighed deeply.

"I don't know what to do. What do I- how- what do you say to something like that?" Molly said earnestly. Mary shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea." Mary said, she truly was at a loss for words.

"Do you want him back, Molly?" Mary asked after a few minutes silence. Molly shook her head.

"I don't know. Yes- no, no I can't, Mary. I can't! But… I-"

"You do, love." Mary said stroking her hand kindly. "He said you saved his life."

Molly rubbed her face. "I didn't do anything. I was just… there." Molly said leaning her head on her friend's shoulder. Mary wrapped a kind arm around Molly, rubbing her back.

"Sometimes that's all it takes." Mary said sympathetically.

X

"That's what you said?" John asked after Sherlock recited every word he had written to Molly. Sherlock had retained every single emotion he had felt while he was writing the letter and every single part of it. He memorized it in case of this exact moment when he would need to confide in John. And he knew he would.

"In a nutshell. Well, a rather large nutshell. That was the whole thing." Sherlock said taking a seat across from John.

"Make us all look bad why don't you, Sherlock?" John said smiling. Sherlock was irritated by his humor. Now wasn't the time for humor! Now was the time for drastic action. Now was the time for the next letter and the next after that.

Sherlock was saying all of this very passionately while practically running back and forth across the small living room at Baker St. He stood atop the coffee table with his hands raised to the heaven's when Mycroft suddenly walked in.

"Am I interrupting something?" Myrcoft asked, his voice monotone. Sherlock groaned and removed himself from the coffee table.

"What now?" Sherlock snapped as he picked up his violin.

"I told you to keep that wife of yours in line and there she goes running around town with a very important man in the British Government and oh and his wife. Really, Sherlock, I thought you were man enough to keep the Woman in check." Mycroft said coldly. Sherlock glared at him menacingly.

"Well in case you've forgotten, _brother dear_, she happens to know a very deep dark ugly secret about our family-"

"-about you." Mycroft muttered.

"-and if we don't want it spread all around town then honestly the Woman can do as she pleases. She doesn't do too much damage." Sherlock said as he cleaned the bow of his violin with a handkerchief.

"And here I thought you cared about the family honor." Mycroft said, he hadn't moved from his spot in the doorway. John stood up and faced the elder Holmes.

"Listen, Mycroft, Sherlock does care. Sadly, Irene has the upper hand in this case. Sherlock will talk to her. Are you happy?" John said, hoping his mediation wouldn't go unwelcome. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Just make sure she puts an end to gallivanting her affairs all over the papers. Really, it's quite embarrassing. Especially to our parents. Good day." Mycroft said before making his grand exit, the door slamming shut behind him. Sherlock placed his bow and violin back in their case. He pulled back at the curtain as he watched Mycroft get into his car and like the child Sherlock was he stuck his tongue out at his older brother before putting the curtain back into place.

"Miserable old sod." Sherlock mumbled as he sat down in his comfy leather chair.

"He's right though. Irene has been showing off a lot more than usual." John said as he picked up the paper.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She's trying to get my attention. I have more important matters to attend to. Well, one important matter. Molly Hooper is my top priority." Sherlock said proudly.

"After we solve the case of the disappearing circus clown." John pointed out.

Sherlock nodded his head. "Well of course, John! The game is on!" Sherlock said grabbing his coat, John following quickly behind him. John hoped Molly Hooper would be back soon, he couldn't keep taking sick days to help Sherlock solve crimes forever.

**AN: Two chapters in one (technically two) night! Had to post this chapter too, I just started and couldn't stop. Sorry if the new chapters weren't lengthy enough. I hope you enjoyed them anyway! Sweet dreams my darling little demons 3**

**PS. I was listening to a beautiful piece of music while writing Sherlock's letter. It's called "Nuvole bianche" by Ludovico Elinaudi. You should check it out on YT if you can! **


	14. Chapter Fourteen: His Lady

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Fourteen

His Lady

Sherlock Holmes sat across from Molly Hooper at the small cafe that was mostly empty. Sherlock didn't often come to cafes to talk to people and he would have preferred speaking to Molly in private but she insisted on meeting him in a public place. She wasn't ready to be completely alone with him yet. There was a man playing a guitar in the corner, he wasn't very good at it. The woman behind the counter needed to seriously trim her fingernails.

What Sherlock felt when he saw Molly enter the little cafe was a combination of two things: relief and fear. Relief that she had actually come and agreed to meet him and fear that he would fuck things up very fast. Sherlock knew that now more than ever he had to choose his words carefully.

"You look… well." Sherlock said, they had been sitting in silence for ten minutes as their tea cooled. He lifted his cup to his mouth and blew gently before taking a sip. Molly nodded her head and smiled shyly. "I am." she replied but Sherlock could see she wasn't well. The circles under her eyes weren't terribly dark and she had tried to hide them under makeup. Molly never wore makeup. Sherlock suspected she hadn't been sleeping well. Other than the dark circles she looked lovely. Her hair was up in a ponytail, she wore a cream colored sweater and a black skirt with little flat black shoes and a very brightly colored purple and yellow striped scarf.

"How's um… solving crimes?" Molly asked. Sherlock explained the case of the disappearing circus clown that had Sherlock completely perplexed until he solved it. Molly missed his voice so much. She missed the way he explained cases and the obvious things he should have noticed from the very beginning. She really had missed him. She missed hearing him talk about murders like he was talking about his favorite sport.

"Sherlock, about your letter," Molly began after he finished regaling her about his recently solved crime. Sherlock tensed and looked down at his steaming saucer.

"It was… it was very beautiful." Molly said reaching out across the table and resting her hand on top of his. Sherlock wanted to grab her hand and kiss every one of her fingers but he held him back and instead just let her stroke the skin of his hand with her thumb, it would have to do. The fact that she was touching him at all was beyond his belief.

"I think you think that you forced me to do something I didn't want to-let me finish- to do. I know I said no but I did want to… well, you know. It was unpleasant, yes, and you weren't very accommodating but I did want to." Molly said, she glanced around nervously in case someone was listening or watching them but there was barely a soul in the cafe. Sherlock shook his head. "You're wrong, Molly. I behaved like an idiot- a brute. I hurt you in ways I can never be forgiven for." Sherlock said meeting her gaze. Molly reached out her other hand and touched the side of his face. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

"Sherlock, you have to forgive yourself. I don't hate you. I'm disappointed in the way we both treated each other. But I… I do miss you." Molly said, looking down at the wooden coffee table. "I miss solving crimes with you, the thrill of the chase. I the… intimate moments." Molly said averting her gaze, her cheeks turning red.

"But Sherlock if I come back and help you solve crimes it's strictly professional," Molly said in a determined voice. Sherlock only listened and didn't speak. She appreciated that but was surprised that she was able to silence him at all. "I think we both know that a psychical relationship isn't the best idea for us- with each other. But I want to help you. I didn't know I made such an impact on you." Molly looked at him, his face was stoic but his thumb lightly brushed against her fingers. The simple touch sent sparks through Molly's body.

"I understand. I wish respect your wishes, Molly." Sherlock agreed and Molly believed him. He was allowing her to take the upper hand, steering them in whatever direction she wished.

The next few weeks passed by rather quickly. Molly spent her nights at home and her mornings and afternoons with Sherlock and sometimes John Watson would accompany them though Molly believed that Mary had sent him along to chaperone. Molly didn't mind John's presence. It kept her from making another mistake. She knew she couldn't allow herself to be sexually intimate with Sherlock, it was too risky.

Not because Molly feared he might hurt her but because she feared she'd slip back into her depression. Being with him, just around him, made her feel happier again. Molly didn't want to become a woman who depended on a man to make her happy, she knew she had to make her own happiness but making her own happiness also included Sherlock Holmes.

Because even in his own crude way he did make her happy. He might not know it but being with him was happiest she'd felt in a long time.

Molly truly believed every word he had written to her. She had practically memorized it. She read every night before bed and slept with it in her pillow; if she couldn't allow herself to sleep beside him she would use he letter as her own way of coping. She wondered if Sherlock had any methods of his own to cope. Or maybe he just switched that part of his brain off.

They were finishing up a case about a man with two identical brothers (triplets, very rare) who were all taking turns pretending to be the husband of a London socialite.

Molly leaned back on the couch a rubbed her stiff neck, Sherlock entered the room with two cups of what she thought was tea. "Thank you," Molly said taking the saucer. As soon as the liquid hit her lips she knew it wasn't tea. Whiskey! She coughed a little and Sherlock threw his back.

"What.. what was that for?" Molly asked, she usually liked a small glass of whiskey but not today, she didn't even know he liked it.

"Happy April Fools!" Sherlock said smiling but his happy childish smile vanished as placed the saucer on the coffee table. "Not good?" he asked, shuffling his feet. Molly nodded her head. "Not good." Molly said and she leaned back against the couch once more. Sherlock took a seat beside her. "Usually I'm quite good at pranks." Sherlock said, he had a look of confusion on his face as if he couldn't understand why Molly hadn't found his prank funny.

Molly touched his shoulder kindly. "I'm no fun to prank." she said smiling. Sherlock smiled back. He noted how she hadn't removed her hand and her fingers were gently stroking his arm and even though she wasn't directly touching his skin he could feel her warmth very well. It burned him in the sweetest way. Molly seemed to notice her hand had lingered too long and she removed her, Sherlock missed the contact immediately.

"I better be off." Molly said grabbing her coat, Sherlock watched her struggle for a moment before standing to help her.

"Here, let me." Sherlock said, she tried to protest but he insisted. "There we are." he said, he stood behind her and his hands remained on her shoulders. In his mind he thought it only fair that if she got to touch him he should touch her.

No, no, no… stop it! Hands off! Sherlock shouted at himself. He removed his hands quickly and opened the front door for her.

"I could drive you home." he suggested, he didn't even mean to. Thankfully Molly shook her head no. They both knew what would happen if she stayed any longer at Baker St. or if he took her home. She'd invite him of course, make a real cup of tea. The tea would go cold because she would throw herself at him and beg him to make love to her. They both could picture it…

"Thank you but I'll take a taxi. Um… goodnight Mr. Holmes." Molly said as she exited to the flat. Sherlock watched her go until she was out of his sight and he closed the door quietly.

Sherlock knew they couldn't risk anymore of these little moments. He knew he should end their professional relationship. As much he enjoyed spending time with Molly again it was getting harder and harder not to express his strong feelings for her physically. He was in torment and he could see that she was too. Perhaps it would be more merciful to just end it completely.

But Sherlock didn't think he go through not having Molly around again. It was the second most horrible time of his life, next to losing his brother-

"Mr. Holmes." Sherlock turned around and looked dumbfounded to see that Molly Hooper and reappeared in his flat. Sherlock was to say the least surprised.

"Molly… what-"

"Shh." Molly said holding up her hand. For a moment neither of them moved or spoke. "I can't… I can't do this." Molly said and she removed her coat tossing it on the couch. "Do what exactly?" Sherlock carefully. They both began gravitating towards one another slowly.

"These little moments… the accidental touching- the times where you've almost kissed me, I've noticed. I've counted every one of them-"

"27… 27 times I've almost kissed you." Sherlock said, he couldn't hold it all back any longer. He leaned down to her level and just pressed his lips to hers. There was no tongue but it was passionate. Molly sucked in a breath and dug her fingers into his hair. Yes, she missed it. She missed the way he tasted and the way he smelled.

Molly didn't know at what point Sherlock's hands traveled down to her waist to pull her closer to him. She felt his warm tongue slide against the seam of her lips and she finally parted lips. They stumbled backwards until her back was pressed to the now closed front door. It was then that Sherlock noted he felt wetness upon Molly's skin and clothing. It must have started raining which meant she had stood outside in the rain for a little bit.

Sherlock began pressing kisses to her neck and she moan softly.

"You stood in the rain, you were-ah god- apprehensive about returning… you weren't sure you wanted to," Sherlock whispered as he began unbuttoning her blouse. Molly bit her lip as he covered her flesh in open mouthed kisses. "But you did come up. You've wanted me- nervous biting of the bottom lip, dilated pupils… your feet," Sherlock paused as he pulled down the cup of her bra.

"My… my feet?" Molly whimpered as he took a stiff slightly damp nipple into her mouth. Sherlock groaned. "Always pointing in my direction indicating your attraction for me."

Molly grasped the sides of her face and made him look at her. "Don't deduce when we're… doing this. Promise?" Molly requested. A sweet, lovely request and Sherlock was ready to do anything she wanted.

Sherlock had finished unbuttoning her blouse and unhooked her bra. He raised her skirt and pressed another open mouthed kiss to her lips. Molly's arms wrapped around his hard body. "Are you sure?" Sherlock whispered, his hands aching to release his throbbing his cock. Molly nodded her head. He took in her appearance. Flushed, pink, glowing, warm, pure sex…

Wait- glowing?

But Sherlock was yanked back towards her and her hands slid down his waist towards his trousers.

No, no deductions. We promised, Sherlock reminded himself.

Sherlock helped Molly undo his trousers and he moaned loudly when she wrapped her hand around his stiffness. He pressed his hand to her wet center. He pushed two fingers inside of her as his thumb flicked against her clit.

"Oh… Sherlock, please." Molly whimpered, pleadingly. Sherlock wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and he carried her to the couch, he knew he couldn't make it to the bedroom but he also didn't want to her to relive the memory of their first time having sex, he feared his bedroom might frighten the memory to the forefront of her mind.

Sherlock laid her out gently and removed her skirt completely, her underwear followed soon after.

As he gazed at the beautiful young woman sprawled out on his couch he stopped.

"Sherlock?" she said quietly to him, concern in her voice.

Oh god, has he changed his mind? I'll feel so humiliated! Molly thought nervously. Her mind was racing. He still wasn't saying anything. He looked so disheveled with his hair askew and his trousers undone, the first few buttons seemed to have been ripped away at some point during their passionate embrace.

Sherlock still didn't reply but he came closer to her pressing his front completely against her. She felt him hard and ready between her legs. She found it strangely arousing that he was still clothed. Actually, if she remembered correctly, through most of their intimate encounters he usually remained somewhat clothed. She briefly wondered why before he began planting heated but slow kisses to her lips, shoulders and breasts.

Molly realized that Sherlock wanted to be gentle with her and she appreciated that beyond words. Yes, she wanted him now but they had also never really done slow before and so far Molly really liked slow. He gently ground his hips into hers and she moaned at the contact. Moan after moan followed every press of his hips, every angle he tried she delighted in.

"Please… oh god." Molly moaned, she wriggled beneath him aching to get closer than they already were. They never seemed to be close enough. "You're certain?" he asked her gazing into her eyes. "Yes. Yes!" she cried out. Sherlock wouldn't keep his lady waiting. He gripped himself in one hand while grasping her hand in the other, holding it tightly. He kept his eyes fixed on her as he pressed himself into her with a gentle push. Molly gripped his forearm with her free hand as she felt him begin to fill her.

It wasn't as painful as the first time, she was wet and ready for him even more than before. It was an uncomfortable feeling but as he remained still inside of her, she adjusted to his size.

Molly's hard grip on his forearm loosened and she slid her hand to cup the side of his face. He remained looking at her as he gave an experimental thrust. It was a slow thrust but it knocked the air out of her lungs, not because it hurt but because it had felt wonderful.

"How…how does that feel?" Sherlock asked, Molly felt he already knew the answer. She gripped the hand that he held to his chest tighter. "Don't stop." was her only reply and Sherlock didn't stop. His thrusts remained slow but they also became harder and urgent. She loved it. She felt her body begin to reach that ultimate ecstasy.

More, more… she moaned inside her head, she couldn't find the sanity to say them out loud. Sherlock's heavy grunts in her ear were so erotic that actually hearing him receive pleasure helped finally send her over the edge. She didn't know what a turn on it could be to hear the person you love in the throes of pleasure.

Sherlock continued thrusting but his movements became faster. In her post orgasm state she couldn't hold onto his body and her eyes rolled shut finally breaking his intense blue eyed gaze.

"Ngnn- Molly… shit, oh fuck." he moaned heavily into her neck. He snapped his hips harder as if he couldn't control himself any longer.

In his mind, Sherlock was torn. He was overwhelmed with the feeling of being inside Molly again. She felt wonderful, warm, wet… she felt like heaven, if he believed in heaven it would be Molly. She was the only heaven, the only goddess, the only deity he'd worship. Her sweetness and kind nature was his salvation and his undoing. He would be her sinner and her saint.

But something was nagging at him as he thrust powerfully into her welcoming body.

Glowing… _glowing-_

Sherlock replayed in a matter of seconds her behavior during the weeks they had spent together. Slightly irritable, easily sexually aroused, frustrated, her strange and sudden hunger for pickles and black licorice candy and just her all around increased appetite. The signs were there… the sign of-

"Three- oh fuck!" Sherlock shouted as he thrust one last time into Molly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close to her. Molly gently stroked his back, his shirt clinging to his sweaty body. Molly gripped his face and brought her lips down to his.

"Sherlock… you're crying." she whispered, concerned once again. Sherlock looked confused. Crying? Why would he be crying?

"Nonsense," Sherlock said lifting a sweaty hand to his face assuming it was just more sweat that had accumulated on his face. But no… the wetness came from his eyes. He had been… crying. He felt embarrassed as he removed himself from her body, tucking himself back into his trousers. When he noticed Molly's return of embarrassment due to her nudity he removed his shirt and handed it to her.

"It's alright you know… it was- well rather emotional for me too." Molly said kindly, stroking his naked back. His skin felt sticky but she liked it. Sherlock sighed. "Yes, but you're not the one crying." Sherlock said as he finished wiping his face, he could smell Molly on his fingers, he liked it.

"Sherlock," Molly began. "What did you mean when you shouted 'three'?" she asked him. Sherlock tensed. He hadn't meant to say that out and he also hadn't planned to cry like a child!

"Molly… I think you should have John examine you. There's a margin for error but I'm at least seventy nine percent certain you're pregnant." Sherlock said looking at her seriously. Molly laughed.

"Sherlock, we've only just finished I doubt I'm-"

"No, you little fool, from before! It's been weeks… no at least two months since the first time we had sex. Have you had your cycle?" Sherlock asked. Molly shook her head.

"Well… no but I've always been irregular and I thought it was just stress or- or… oh god!" now it was Molly's turn to cry, she stood up from the couch and began pacing.

"What about morning sickness?" he asked her. Molly groaned and rubbed her face.

"Again I thought it was just stress, it only happened a couple of times. I'm an idiot, idiot, idiot!" Molly shouted. Sherlock stood up and took her hands into his own, calming her and halting her pacing it was beginning to annoy him. "Molly, you must relax. It could be stress." Sherlock said trying to sound comforting but he knew it sounded like a lie. It sounded like he was just trying to make her feel better even though he knew he probably right.

After all, Sherlock had predicted both of Mary's pregnancies without her even being aware she was pregnant.

As Sherlock held Molly in his arms that night, in his bed which he grateful didn't give her a panic attack, he couldn't fall asleep. She had cried a bit more but had finally passed out. Sherlock would call John tomorrow and schedule an appointment. It was the first time that he hoped beyond hope that he was wrong.

**AN: Sorry! for the late update, I really am. For some reason this chapter just didn't want to be written but I did it! Posting late at night so I hope you enjoy this tomorrow. Sweet dreams and have a beautiful day my darling little demons! 3**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Phantoms

I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper or Irene Adler or any other characters from the show or original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that may make an appearance.

AU Sherlock. Set in 1960's London, England. Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant consulting detective and unhappily married to Irene Adler. Molly Hooper is 23 and the new maid.

Chapter Fifteen

Phantoms

Molly sat on the cold examination table, her feet still covered in her blue socks. She stared at the cold white tiled floor then glanced around the room, fidgeting with her hands nervously as she waited for Dr. Watson to return with the results of her test. They had drawn blood and physically examined her. The day after she and Sherlock had made love he had whisked her away to Dr. Watson's offices at St. Bart's. Molly usually didn't mind hospitals, even when her father was ill. But now she hated the cold sterile environment which now made her feel as though she were an animal in a zoo. Sherlock was outside in the waiting room.

Sherlock sat there quietly and watched a couple of children- a boy and a girl- playing with some of the toys on the floor. He grimaced. They looked somewhat unkempt, a little dirty. The boy reminded Sherlock of a child in his homeless network. Sherlock did not like children in fact he usually found them to be of only one use: gathering information. They were sneaky and small and could go anywhere and no one would pay them any mind and they were dirt cheap to hire.

As Sherlock watched the children he deduced the girl was of the more superior mind. He gathered her age to be that of at least eight and the boy perhaps ten or eleven. She was playing with a puzzle beyond her age but was accomplishing it at an impressive rate. Sherlock briefly let his mind wander… he was convinced that if Molly was indeed carrying his child- and if she decided to keep it- that it would be a brilliant child.

Molly was bright and intelligent and kind and warm. He himself knew the power of his own mind, his genes were quite strong. He and his elder and younger brother had received their genetic gifts from their mother who was ahead of her time as far as women of her generation went. A brilliant mathematician who struck fear into the hearts of her male counterparts but was highly respected in her field; though their mother was a kind woman her presence was demanding, just like his own. Their father was… well, he was their father. A man of average intelligence, he was good at fixing things and tinkering but often off in his own little world.

At the same time, while Sherlock was appreciating the brilliance that would be his and Molly's child- it's extraordinary mind and what he or she would accomplish in their life- he couldn't help but think of the darker side of things. Sherlock knew better than anyone what a rude, arrogant and obnoxious asshole he could be. He knew he had an addictive personality and nature. He was strong willed but weak at the same time. His weakness not only for drugs but his weakness for sentiment, even if he tried to distance himself from it he always found his way back to it.

The first instance was with Simon, his late brother. He swore he would never again allow himself that kind of kinship or brotherhood with anyone… until John Watson came into his life. John Watson… the good soldier. The good doctor. The good man and friend. John had helped Sherlock in a similar way Molly had. He had saved him literally and metaphorically speaking.

And when Sherlock felt himself slipping back into his old habits after he watched his friend begin his own life with Mary and his daughters, Molly Hooper had dropped into his life and now a new life could be forming within her. A life he had helped create. It was a curious thing… something so brutal and animalistic in nature could create such an innocent life that did not ask to be created in the first place.

Sherlock worried- yes, he worried- what if his and Molly's child… was like him? What if the child was cold, distant, demanding, harsh, rude and unreachable? What if their child was exactly like him? That above all else was what Sherlock feared most. What if the child inherited nothing of Molly's kind nature and only his hard cold reason?

John entered the waiting room holding a file folder, shaking Sherlock from his thoughts. He was grateful for that.

"Come along, you'll want to." John said as he walked with Sherlock to the exam room.

They entered the room to find Molly still sitting atop the exam table. Sherlock stood beside her and she immediately took his hand squeezing it tightly. John took a seat in front of them opening up the file folder.

"Well, out with it man!" Sherlock said harshly, while his right hand was occupied by Molly's small one his other reached for his pack of cigarettes, lighting up quickly Sherlock tried to hide his nerves.

"Yes, well, Molly I have good news. You're not pregnant." John said smiling.

Sherlock and Molly froze in shock.

Molly was in shock because she couldn't believe Sherlock had been wrong and also because she feared that John might be wrong. Sherlock was in shock for another reason; not because he was upset for being wrong but because he felt a twinge of… disappointment?

"You must be wrong," Molly said quickly but John shook his head. "You're sure?" Sherlock followed up quickly.

"I'm quite sure, blood doesn't lie. No, Molly, I would say what you experienced was a phantom pregnancy. It happens when a woman wants to be pregnant so badly she'll begin showing the signs of being pregnant but there is no baby. Never was. Good god, woman, I thought you'd be relieved!" John said laughing when he noticed the look on Molly's face. "And Sherlock you look like you've seen a ghost! Congratulations, Molly, you were able to trick Sherlock Holmes and you didn't even try." John said.

As Sherlock and Molly sat in the car they were silent. The drive back to Baker St. was… awkward. Molly wondered why Sherlock wasn't talking, she expected him to be thrilled. She herself was relieved.

Molly made them tea upon their return and they sat in the living room quietly listening to the sound of the clock ticking.

Finally, Molly spoke.

"That's quite a relief." she said sipping her tea. Sherlock grunted a response blowing the steam from his cup. "I don't understand," Molly said, Sherlock was still staring straight ahead but gave grunt indicating he was listening to her. "Why would I want to imagine a baby? I wasn't even thinking that I could have been pregnant- or wanted to be pregnant for that matter."

Sherlock spoke up, "It was your way of subconsciously wanting me back into your life, I suppose. In some cases of love affairs when a child is produced the man has an obligation to see that the mother and child are well provided for and in many cases the man marries the woman in question. Perhaps you wanted me back so badly that buried deep inside your mind somewhere this is what you came up with to get me back, whether you knew it or not." Sherlock deduced.

"But that's such an extreme route. I did want you back but… a baby? How absurd!" Molly said giggling. Sherlock snapped his head in her direction.

"Absurd? _Absurd! _Is the idea of carrying my child that repulsive to you?" Sherlock demanded, setting his cup and saucer down on the coffee table with a loud clang. Molly shook her head.

"No- no that's now what I- you're twisting my words! I never said I didn't want your child. I only meant that it's such a extreme way for me to try and get you back besides just talking to you. Instead my mind created a false baby and… oh, god." Molly rubbed her face, her eyes filling with tears. Sherlock sighed and took her hand.

"I didn't mean to lash out. It's been a very tiring day, hasn't it? Don't cry." Sherlock spoke softly and tried to sound as comforting as he could. Molly leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I pictured it- the baby," Molly confessed. "Did you?" he asked, he would not tell her that he had as well. He couldn't. It was as if his heart was breaking for a child that was never even there in the first place.

"It would be like you," Molly said kissing his neck, Sherlock groaned. "Oh god, don't say that. I can barely compete with myself." Sherlock said rubbing her arm slowly. She smiled. "Do you want children?" Molly asked him. Sherlock shook his head.

"No. I never liked them to be honest. The children in my homeless network are trouble enough." Sherlock said, he would never tell her he had pictured what their child, male or female, would have looked like. If it were a girl she'd have Molly's lovely light brown hair that was soft and fell perfectly around her face. If it were a boy… well, he hoped male or female it would have looked like Molly. He had prayed to himself that it would be nothing like him in both physical appearance as well as emotionally and mentally.

"This does bring up a good point though," Sherlock said. "John suggested you go on a pill- to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. I should have already taken proper precautions but for some unknown reason it escaped even I and we need to be more prepared." Molly nodded her head in agreement.

That night they didn't make love, it was as if they were both too scared to. Sherlock held her until she fell asleep and then left the bed, he couldn't bring himself to succumb to sleep just yet.

Sherlock stood in front of the open window smoking a cigarette; the grey cloud of smoke filtering out like the ghosts of his past. He pondered his relationship with Molly and the events that had lead him to this point in his life. He thought about what would have happened if Molly had indeed been pregnant. He knew she was not the type of woman to seek a way to terminate the pregnancy, he knew she would have wanted to keep it. Sherlock would have respected her wishes.

Molly being pregnant would have not only changed his own life but it would have completely and totally altered her own life as well. Sherlock knew he was being selfish by keeping Molly in his life; perhaps he was keeping her from doing other things. On the one hand he wanted her to feel free and to be able to do whatever she wanted in her life but on the other hand he didn't believe anyone could care for her as he could.

Sherlock would not have even been able to marry her though since he was stuck for the rest of his days in a loveless marriage to Irene Adler who would never let him go for as long as she lived. Not that he wanted to marry Molly but he did want to be with her. Sherlock knew he could live without being married to someone and would feel totally at ease with "living in sin" as his mother would have put it. But that was not what Molly deserved and Sherlock knew he didn't deserve her.

The telephone ringing broke Sherlock from his thoughts. He flicked the cigarette out the window and answered the phone, it was late, almost twelve in the morning.

"Yes?" Sherlock answered, letting his annoyance breathe life through the phone.

"It's me." Irene's voice was calm and clear. Sherlock groaned. "What now?" he demanded, he suddenly wanted to get back into bed and breathe in Molly's comforting scent before fading away into sleep.

"I'm with someone who would very much like to speak with you dear, husband." Irene said, her voice still calm. Sherlock rubbed his eyes and glanced through the open door of his bedroom at Molly, she was still sound asleep.

"And this person would be?" Sherlock asked ready to hang up if Irene didn't get to the point and quickly.

"Jim Moriarty."

Sherlock Holmes was not a man who was easily shocked but at the mention of Moriarty's name he felt his heart come to a thudding halt and he nearly dropped the telephone receiver.

**AN: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Did you think she was really pregnant? Sorry, no baby for Miss. Molly Hooper. Let me know what you think of this chapter, lots of self reflection. Oh! I saw Captain America: The Winter Soldier tonight and it was amazing, go see it! Thank you for reading and for all of the lovely reviews! Sweet dreams my darling little demons 3**


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